Home From the Hill
by Ramos
Summary: Eight months ago, Jubilee and Bishop disappeared. The firecracker they recover has grown up hard. FINAL CHAPTER LOADED.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Home from the Hill, Chapter 1  
  
Author: Ramos  
  
Rating: PG for language  
  
Category: Adventure  
  
Disclaimer: These characters are the property of Marvel Comics, and no profit is made from their use.  
  
Author's Note: I'm not even going to get into the whole 'how do they understand the native language of a planet they've never even heard of' dilemma. Hey, they never bothered on Star Trek, and they have a lot bigger budget than I do.  
  
Oh, and ~~ indicates mental telepathy.  
  
  
  
  
  
Home is the sailor, home from the sea,  
  
And the hunter home from the hill.  
  
ROBERT LOUIS STEPHENSON  
  
1  
  
  
  
The bar was the same as any other bar between Westchester and Timbuktu, but the only redeeming quality to this one was the fact that it was the closest to his cabin in the wilds of Canada. The jukebox still played tunes that had been out of date for years, the bathroom wasn't fit for human habitation, and the whiskey was strong. No, that was really the best part. It was almost strong enough to make a man forget.  
  
Wolverine signaled for another, and the aging peroxide blonde behind the counter filled his glass without comment. Night after night – not every night, but close enough – he came in, drank enough to kill a man, then walked out with perfectly steady feet and the dismal cloud that surrounded him intact. At first she'd tried to raise some conversation with the sullen man, but after being continually rebuffed, she'd taken the hint and filled his glass without removing the cigarette from her wrinkled, red- lipsticked lips.  
  
~Wolverine.~  
  
Wolverine tossed back the amber liquid and considered ignoring the faint voice in his head. He was far enough away from Charles Xavier that the man might believe he was out of reach.  
  
~Wolverine.~  
  
~Go away, Chuck.~  
  
~Logan. You must return to the mansion as soon as possible.~  
  
The man known as Wolverine hunched his shoulders and clenched the glass tightly in his hand. ~Like hell. I don't care if Magneto is tap dancing on yer front lawn, Chuck. I ain't going back there.~  
  
~We found them.~  
  
"What!!!" he shouted, actually saying it aloud. ~Where? Is she all right?~ he demanded mentally, ignoring the bartender and the other patrons staring at him from the other end of the bar.  
  
~Pagnatolia, and she's fine, as is Bishop.~  
  
~Pagna-wha? Izzat in South America?~  
  
A faint sigh echoed through the mental connection. ~It's a colonial outpost of the Shi'ar Empire.~  
  
Logan thought about it.  
  
~If I ever see that motherless bow-legged bastard Gateway again, I'm gonna gut 'im.~  
  
~I find it hard to disagree with you, as it seems he was most likely responsible for Jubilee and Bishop's disappearance in the first place. However it happened, Scott and Jean have already taken off in the Raven. They will rendezvous with a Shi'ar cruiser. Hopefully, they'll be able to pick up our missing pair and have them home soon.~  
  
~Hopefully, ya said. Is there a problem?~  
  
~I'm not sure, but I received the distinct impression from Deathbird that Jubilee had been causing some… difficulties.~  
  
A slow smile crossed Wolverine's face for the first time in the eight months his protégé and closest friend had been missing. ~That's my girl!~  
  
**********  
  
Scott and Jean Summers followed in the wake of the officious Shi'ar commandant Brial and her satellite flunky, weary of the officer's arrogant attitude after having been exposed to it for less than an hour now. The woman's dramatic white and black skin coloration was typical of a Shi'ar, and many of the officers in this compound were similarly of non-native origin. The majority of the military here were local, though, and while their skin and hair color were widely varied, they were physically closer to the human norm, allowing the X-men to pass with little staring or hostile reaction. Interestingly, Scott noticed the locals did not salute their superior officer, while every Shi'ar they passed drew him or herself up and gave the respectful gesture that was completely ignored.  
  
God, he just wanted to collect Jubilee and Bishop and get the hell out of here. The Shi'ar expansion had finally put down the local rebellion, which was a vicious if not very popular uprising. The planet was just leaving an agrarian stage and moving towards a technology based economy, and the old ruling class had been adamantly resistant to being absorbed by the Empire. The thought of his youngest team member caught in the revolution, with only Bishop to keep her safe, made his gut jump with the fear of what could have happened.  
  
Wolverine had been adamant that she was still alive, saying he'd know if she were dead. Charles Xavier had admitted that the pair's close relationship could have established a bond similar to the psychic link that he and Jean shared, but the fact that Logan and Jubilee were not physically intimate, and therefore not as closely linked, had allowed doubt to creep in. As the months had gone by without any sign, even Wolverine had begun to lose hope and had taken off to his cabin in the north rather than face the seemingly empty house without the vibrant presence of his old partner.  
  
Commandant Brial and her ensign aide turned down yet another corridor of this sprawling complex and entered a wide avenue full of milling troops. The locals were even more numerous here, and the Commandant equally ignored, but Jean did not miss the double take from one younger soldier who caught sight of the team's signature X'ed circle on her belt. Puzzled, she watched him out of the corner of her eye as she passed, and caught the same symbol on the man's tattered shirt, this time on his upper left chest, near (she supposed) his heart.  
  
~Scott, did you see that?~  
  
~What?~  
  
Obviously not, she thought to herself, then spied another on a woman ahead of them.  
  
~That woman. She has an X on her shirt.~  
  
Her husband was quiet for a moment, his gaze flicking over the woman who looked to be a good fifteen years older than himself, but still capable if judged by the strong arms revealed by a worn shirt. She was loading a floating pallet with some boxes, and did not look up as they passed her. A man wheeled out more supplies, and dumped them with a low comment to his companion.  
  
~He's got one, too.~  
  
~It's a simple symbol, Jean. And the Professor didn't exactly put a galactic copyright on it.~  
  
The avenue widened again, opening into a circular cul-de-sac, cross- sectioned with traffic patterns that led away to other corridors. In between, several broad doors opened into briefing rooms while other doors were closed, presumably over similar areas. Across the open expanse, three men and one young woman, possibly still in her teens, crouched or sat against the far wall. Near them stood a broad shouldered, dark-skinned giant, the tattooed "M" over one eye leaving no doubt to his identity. Scott raised one hand to hail him when the identity of the man at Bishop's shoulder sunk in.  
  
"What in the HELL?" Scott muttered, and felt his wife's disbelief boiling across their shared link as they took in the sight of Victor Creed, also known as Sabretooth, standing shoulder to shoulder with their missing companion. The two of them faced in opposite directions, and the entire vicinity was covered under their combined vigilance. Nearly seven feet tall, he was the only person they knew who could tower over the usually imposing Bishop. Even as they paused, the hairy blond nudged the man next to him, drawing Bishop's attention to their presence. The dark, unshaven chin jerked once in recognition, but did not move towards them.  
  
"There are your people, X-Man," declared Brial in her smug tone. "Take them, and get them off my planet."  
  
"Where's Jubilee?" Jean demanded.  
  
Brial turned to her aide, who consulted an electronic data pad and answered in a soft voice.  
  
"I believe she had negotiations to settle. She should be out soon."  
  
They moved towards the unlikely paired men just as the doors to one side opened. A local with a deep olive complexion and wearing an clean, intact commander's uniform stepped out, still conversing with the smaller woman beside him. They clasped wrists in agreement, then the older man moved to one side as over a dozen tall, broad-shouldered soldiers with varying shades of orange-striped skin exited the room. The shabby bunch faced the woman with feathery black hair, then at a grunted signal, saluted as one, their right fist striking the circled X on their left pectoral. They held the salute until Jubilee returned it, then turned as a unit and followed the older officer down one of the corridors.  
  
"Jubilee!" Jean shouted with relief, and overwhelming joy.  
  
Jubilee's head twisted instantly and flashed a huge grin as she caught site of the couple hurrying towards her, then abruptly disappeared as the four lounging soldiers surged to their feet. Scott and Jean pulled up short at the ragged, hostile group stepped between themselves and Jubilee. Reflexively, Cyclops fingered his visor.  
  
"Guys. Chill." The words were typical Jubilee, but the tone of command was something Jean had seldom heard from the smaller woman. The four paused, then reluctantly parted, once again revealing the object of nearly a year's search. Jean braced herself for one of Jubilee's exuberant hugs, and was surprised as only her arm was grasped by the wrist, just as Scott's was with Jubilee's other hand.  
  
"I am so glad to see you guys, you can't believe it," she said fervently.  
  
"Oh, honey, we've been looking for you for so long!" Jean's smile faltered as she reached out to touch the long white scar that creased Jubilee's high cheekbone.  
  
"Wha… Oh, yeah, that." She grinned ruefully, revealing the gap of a broken incisor tooth in direct line with the scar. "I bobbed when I should have weaved. Wolvie woulda smacked me, it was really dumb. Did he, uh, come with you?" Hope and resignation appeared briefly, then were quickly gone.  
  
"I'm sorry, no, he's not." Scott knew how much it must hurt to not have him here when she needed him. "He was in Canada when we got the call from Deathbird. We didn't want to wait for him, but he ought to be home in time to welcome you back."  
  
"No problem. I really, really missed you guys." She crossed her arms, as though restraining the impulse to hug them. Her gap-toothed smile reinforcing the urchin features of her face, but Jean was appalled at the changes she saw in the woman she'd thought of as a baby sister for many years. A half-healed burn puckered a palm's breadth of her bare bicep, the corded muscle underneath the healing skin bunching convulsively. Jubilee's normally trim physique had been pared of all excess, nearly skeletal beneath sinewy muscles. Her collarbones stood up in sharp contrast under the open neck of her sleeveless shirt, and a gun belt carrying a well-worn sidearm was slung diagonally across prominently pointed hipbones.  
  
"Well, there your people are, safe as can be," Brial interrupted. "You may take them home at any time.'  
  
Jean could feel Scott's irritation, but he concealed it from the Shi'ar woman. "Thank you, Commandant." He glanced at Sabretooth with some trepidation, but figured explanations could come later. "Anytime you're ready, Jube."  
  
"Buddy, I've been ready for a looong time." Jubilee signaled to the four soldiers still watching them suspiciously, and they immediately picked up their gear and slung it over their shoulders. Turning back, she caught Scott's confused reaction, and saw it mirrored by Jean. She was perfectly still for the space of three heartbeats, then turned to the tall Shi'ar commandant.  
  
"You didn't transmit my message, did you." Her voice was calm and even, but one did not have to be a psychic to feel the anger in Jubilee's voice.  
  
Brial looked down her nose at the young woman who barely came to her shoulder. "I am not a messenger service."  
  
"What, you couldn't break the encrypt?" Jean felt the flash of emotion from the young aide, and knew Jubilee had the truth of it. "I need to talk to them, privately. Please be so good as to give me a moment?" The polite tones abruptly disappeared from her voice. "You can wait over there."  
  
Brial stiffened. "You can speak to them later. You must leave. Now."  
  
The young Asian woman did not move, but her expression hardened and suddenly the air in the room seemed warmer, almost hot. "Lady, after these last few days, I have taken all the shit from you I'm gonna take. So either you back the hell off and give me five minutes, or we're gonna go down on this - right here, right now."  
  
"Jubilee," Scott murmured, warningly. He was completely ignored by both, though Jean knew Jubilee had heard and then dismissed him. The Shi'ar's long white hand moved towards her weapon, and Jubilee's palms came up. The air around Brial began to swirl in hot shimmers.  
  
Brial's eyes narrowed. "You would not dare."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I know, Deathbird will split me in half if I kill you." Jubilee replied with menacing sarcasm. "But in the meantime, you're still a crispy critter, and junior over there wakes up as a lieutenant tomorrow."  
  
The deadly cold tones were shocking, as was the intense heat building around Brial. The aide's hand slid down to her own sidearm, and the soldiers behind Jubilee moved subtly as well. High-pitched whines sprang from several sources, one of them from the plasma rifle held in Creed's huge hands. The tension quickly built to a nerve jangling level.  
  
It was at that moment Jean realized that Creed and Bishop both wore the X'ed circle stenciled on the front of their shirts, as did the four behind Jubilee.  
  
~Scott. The soldiers. They're hers.~  
  
Wordless confusion and concern returned through their link. ~They're following Jubilee?~  
  
~Yes. I think… I think ALL of them were hers.~ In her mind, the memory replayed of the dozens of warriors seen with the same symbol.  
  
The tense tableau before them suddenly broke as Brial snapped "Very well," and stalked off, surreptitiously wiping the sweat from her lip and brow. The commandant was furious, but apparently unwilling to further the confrontation.  
  
Scott waited while the Shi'ar woman removed herself from eavesdropping distance, using the moment to take a good long look at the youngest member of his team. The normally effervescent woman in front of him was still the same Jubilee, but the more he looked, the more changes he noticed. Her clothing was the same leather and rough spun fabric he'd seen on a lot of the soldiers in the compound. She did not sport the X'ed circle on her shirt, but instead wore a band, made of familiar blue and yellow fabric, to keep her wildly unkempt hair out of her face. The X-man symbol was centered on the top of her head, half hidden in the stray, raven-black locks. And sprinkled like tiny snowflakes, white hairs were strewn through her twenty-one year old head.  
  
The scar on her face drew his attention further down, and on closer inspection he could see the tiny lines forming around her eyes that spoke of heartbreaking toil and tragedy. The eyes themselves were red-rimmed.  
  
"When's the last time you got any sleep?" he asked roughly, furious with himself at misreading the situation. Something was definitely out of kilter, and it went far beyond having an old and deadly enemy backing up one of his people. When she paused, thinking, it was obvious that it had been some time. She shook her head.  
  
"It doesn't matter. The long and the short of it is, these are my people. I've made arrangements for everyone else, either getting them new contracts or getting them back to their homes. These four," and she indicated the small group behind her, "they don't have anywhere else to go. And I'm not going to leave them to Brial's mercy, either. I want to take them back home with me."  
  
Whoa, that got his attention.  
  
"Jubilee, these are people, not some stray cats…." He broke off when she stepped up to his face, her own tense but her voice even.  
  
"I know that. The twins are outcasts, and Chibar there is the last of his tribe. They have nowhere to go, and I will not abandon them. That's why I tried to send you that message." She paused, searching for words. "If you don't want them to come with us, then I'm staying here."  
  
Scott's jaw twitched as he kept back a snapped reply. ~Jean?~ he appealed mentally. ~Is she serious?~  
  
~Yes, she is. Deadly serious. And Scott… ~ she paused, and he knew she was feeling the emotional and psychic currents around her. ~Scott, if she isn't off this planet in a couple of hours, Brial will kill her.~  
  
Jubilee snorted. "Well, she can try," she added dryly.  
  
A harsh laugh forced its way out of Cyclops' chest. Apparently her pyrotechnic powers weren't the only thing that had improved in the last eight months. He eyed the young woman in front of him again. The absolute confidence was beyond bravado. It was a surety of a commander whose followers would back her move against the Shi'ar governor's chief officer, and he began to get an inkling of a much larger picture. Funny, when they arrived, he'd expected to have to bail Jubilee out of the local jail. Now, he wasn't sure if perhaps the lively individual they all loved hadn't been up to something far more monumental.  
  
"Okay, let's go." The words were out of his mouth before he realized he'd even made the decision. "Him, too?" He indicated Creed, still standing shoulder to shoulder with Bishop.  
  
"Yeah, him too. Thank you." The relief and utter sincerity in her tone caused him to look at her again. The dark indigo eyes were much older than the eight months could account for.  
  
"You have a tale to tell, missy."  
  
The scarred side of her face curved into a lopsided smile. "That I do, One- Eye," she shot back. 


	2. Heading Home

Title: Home from the Hill, Chapter 2  
  
Author: Ramos  
  
Rating: PG for language  
  
Category: Adventure  
  
Disclaimer: These characters are the property of Marvel Comics, and no profit is made from their use.  
  
  
  
It was a short walk from the planetary shuttle to where the Blackbird waited in the massive hanger of the Shi'ar Destroyer. The gantry lowered itself on command, and Scott stood by as Jean handled the thank-yous. He was aware of his wife working her diplomatic skills with the grace and tact of years of experience, but his attention was focused on the smaller woman behind her. He watched as Jubilation Lee approached the Shi'ar pilot who'd lifted them from the planet's surface. The man clasped her wrist in his own large palm and leaned over to whisper something in her ear. Whatever it was, it made Jube laugh, and she smacked him on the shoulder in a gesture he'd seen old soldiers use, one that he'd used himself on veteran teammates. Eight months ago, Jubilee had been a college student. Scott wasn't sure what she was now, but the entire situation left an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.  
  
Behind Jubilee, a handful of tattered warriors waited for their captain to finish chatting up the local pilot. Even Bishop and Creed, and Scott's lip wanted to curl at the utter wrongness of that, waited with the patience of well-trained dogs. And as the young woman nodded to the Shi'ar official and followed Jean to the steps leading up to their ship, the six of them automatically moved out to flank her like a roiling cloak in her wake.  
  
She had introduced each of her people to him and Jean during the hour-long journey from the garrison to the space center, then the shuttle ride up to the orbiting ship. Chibar, the tall, stooped-looking older man with dark brown on brown mottled skin, had been a history teacher before the revolution. Now he was the repository of a history for a clan that no longer existed. The twins, whose real names he could not begin to pronounce but answered readily to Jubilee's affectionate Tweedle and Dee, were of medium height with light olive skin. The brother, Tweedle, was half a head taller than his sister, and they could have come from the Mediterranean sector on Earth if it weren't for their dark blue hair. The last was a straggly teen boy who preferred Jubilee's nickname of Tommy. The boy had blonde hair over soulful green eyes and skin, and judging by the wrists and knobby ankles visible below the hemline of his clothing, Tommy was hitting a growth spurt that threatened to take him well over six feet tall. Scott's scrutiny at last fell on the two giants at the back of the line. Bishop was an old and trusted friend, but Victor Creed was another matter entirely. So far, the hulking man had opened his mouth exactly once, and shut it promptly at a look from Jubilee.  
  
Ironically, the journey from Shi'ar space to the Sol system was over by the time he'd finished the pre-flight checklist and had the engines started, thanks to the Empire's advanced technology. The native soldiers had settled into the last four seats in the jet, but not one of the ten passenger seats had been designed for a man as large as Sabretooth. He overflowed his space and imposed on the slight woman next to him. Scott had to hide a grin; he'd never expected to see Jubilee pat Victor Creed on the knee to sooth his nerves.  
  
"Hang on, people," Scott announced. "We'll be dropped off outside Earth's orbit, so it'll be a few hours before we hit atmosphere."  
  
Jean was a comforting presence at his side as they ran through the familiar sequence of engine startup and flight planning. When they were safely on their way, the destroyer a rapidly disappearing blip in the instruments, Jean murmured something about coffee and contacting the professor, and left the small cockpit.  
  
~Jean. Send Bishop up here, please? It's time for some answers.~  
  
Her familiar mental voice answered back on their private connection. ~I agree.~  
  
Within minutes, a large hand offered a cup of black gold, and he sipped it gratefully as the dark tattooed man settled into the co-pilot's seat. Outwardly, the only change visible in Bishop was the clothing. He was still stoic as a rock wall and nearly as calm, sipping his own coffee with eyes focused on the miniscule green planet barely visible through the canopy.  
  
Scott took a breath and blew the steam away from his cup, glad the gravity generated by their engines allowed the use of cups rather than the zero-G baggies. Drinking hot beverages through a straw was just plain painful.  
  
"So," he started, knowing Bishop would not volunteer anything. "What happened?"  
  
"Gateway."  
  
"Yeah, we figured that out."  
  
Bishop quickly outlined the beginning of their adventure – the standard recruiting mission to contact a Los Angeles teen, a short demonstration of Jubilee's power, and her description of the re-opened Massachusetts School. Stumbling across Creed as he left a bar, the half-hearted exchange of insults that would have likely ended in both sides walking away if Gateway had not appeared, sucking the three of them into a universe light-centuries away.  
  
"When we found ourselves in a strange forest, it was Jubilee who convinced Creed to cease hostilities while we explored our surroundings. We found a small village, and Jubilee went in to recon. When she returned, she was... annoyed."  
  
"Uh-huh," Scott grunted. He could just imagine.  
  
"I believe, 'We're in bumfuck Shi'ar, dudes!' were her exact words." The stubbled lip twitched slightly, the closest Bishop ever came to smile. "We returned to the village, hoping to make contact with a Shi'ar official and somehow get word back to you and the Professor in New York, when the village was attacked by rebels of the Gui'vos." He paused for a moment. "Are you familiar with the political situation there?"  
  
Scott shifted in his seat. "Typical Shi'ar expansion – they don't really care whether they're welcome or not."  
  
Bishop considered, then backtracked. "The planet has been in an agricultural and industrial stage, but the political system is still in strong feudal control. Through religion and a strong basis of tradition, the ruling party, the Gui'vos, has not fluctuated in centuries. The Shi'ar introduced change to this system."  
  
"And the traditional lords didn't like it," Scott guessed.  
  
"No." the larger man replied flatly. "The remaining ruling class has stirred a revolution of sorts. The rebels were not widely popular, but the traditional obedience is deeply ingrained. They were financing themselves through a lucrative slave trade.  
  
"The attack on the village was intended to capture more slaves. They were not anticipating any opposition, and our presence in the village was … unexpected." Once again, Bishop displayed his talent for understatement.  
  
"The attackers were defeated, and I understand we were hailed as heroes by the local people. Unfortunately, I was injured during the fighting, and have few memories of what happened."  
  
"What do you remember?"  
  
Bishop hesitated. "Creed wanted Jubilee to leave me to die. I.. I told Jubilee to leave me as well. I did not believe I would recover."  
  
Scott examined the big man's torso more critically, but did not notice any indications of grave injuries.  
  
"Jubilee refused to leave me, despite Creed's threats. He tried to force her to go with him, knowing she was his passport home, and I was unable to protect her."  
  
"How did she change his mind?" Scott asked, intrigued.  
  
"She found his heart."  
  
Cyclops opened his mouth, but for several moments, nothing came out. "Are- are you telling me…" Scott could hear himself stuttering. "Sabretooth is in love with her?"  
  
Bishop looked at him strangely. "No. She ruptured his lungs and heart with a plasma burst and put a hole in his pericardium."  
  
"Oh," he muttered, feeling foolish. "Wait a minute. Jube took down Sabretooth?"  
  
A wolfish grimace creased the dark man's face, quickly gone. "More than once."  
  
"Wow." No other words came to mind. He had never considered a pinpoint attack on the hairy mutant under discussion, he didn't have that kind of control. Of course, Sabretooth getting that close wasn't usually healthy, either. "Then what?"  
  
"The village was in disarray, the elders of the village killed. Jubilee took command."  
  
"Until you were back on your feet?"  
  
Dark eyes peered into Scott's visor, trying to convey something. "I am a soldier, Cyclops, not a leader. And Creed is an animal without discipline. Jubilation Lee, however, is more than you have ever guessed at."  
  
When Scott made no reply, Bishop continued with his narrative. "The village had a healer, and he was able to save many of the gravely wounded, including myself. The survivors wanted to journey to a larger town for safety, and we soon realized we were in the center of the war zone. After two days of traveling, we came across a caravan of slaves being sent into rebel controlled territory to be sold.  
  
"We had no intention of taking on the slavers until Jubilee heard a child, crying in the tail of the caravan. I still have no idea how she talked Creed into backing her up, but between them they destroyed the caravan and freed the captives. And we became an army."  
  
"An army?" he echoed, questioningly.  
  
"You are familiar with the historical figure of Spartacus?"  
  
Scott thought for a minute. "Roman slave, became a general and nearly destroyed the Empire?"  
  
"Something like that. If the Shi'ar officials knew of the legend, they would have killed us all instantly. The symbol we adopted, " and he tapped the circled X on his chest, "has become a third political option between the old regime and absorption by the Shi'ar Empire. And Jubilation Lee and her army have become a symbol of freedom for the entire planet."  
  
Silence fell in the cockpit as Scott processed the information he'd heard. Jubilee, the firecracker spirit who loved junk food and vying with Bobby over who could create the most outrageous practical jokes, involved in a ragtag army of ex-slaves. Leading an army. Good god, no wonder Brial had wanted her off the planet, but was afraid to kill her.  
  
"You should be very proud of her, Cyclops. She has utilized your training with great efficiency."  
  
He nodded, but his assumptions were busy realigning themselves. "Bishop, when you first came to the mansion, you recognized Jubilee's name."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"But you never told us anything about our future, her future… why not?"  
  
The larger man was slow in answering. "It was not my place to tell you your future or hers. And, after my time stream was lost, there seemed little point in muddying the future to come with expectations that may or may not come true." The wolfish grin reappeared, showing more emotion that Cyclops had ever seen on the man's face. "But I will tell you, from what I've seen in the last eight months, I am in no way disappointed."  
  
  
  
**********  
  
  
  
While Bishop went forward with coffee for Scott, Jean focused on their passengers. Jubilee's four soldiers were talking quietly, eyes already drooping, and she could feel the utter exhaustion radiating from them. Jubilee was no better, but her high-strung anticipation was keeping her jittery. She'd moved across the aisle to allow Creed to stretch out, but her bubbly emotions were almost painfully distracting. Jean rearranged her shields to deflect the nervous energy the younger woman was emitting, and mentally reached out to her mentor's familiar signature.  
  
Contact was established quickly, and she could see in her mind's eye where he sat in Cerebro's familiar embrace, reaching back to her. His reaction to Victor Creed's presence was more puzzled than alarmed, and his utter relief at their successful retrieval did not waver when she explained the addition of Jubilee's strays.  
  
~If Jubilee felt it was imperative to bring her people with her, then I will not argue with her motivations. I'm simply glad that everyone is safe.~  
  
~They may be safe, Professor, but I'm not sure that Jubilee hasn't been permanently harmed by her ordeal.~  
  
~Has she used the term 'ordeal,' Jean?~  
  
~No, but I'm worried.~  
  
~I'll speak to her when she arrives. I'm more anxious to see if her telepathic abilities have manifested as we'd once hoped. We'll discuss it more when you land.~  
  
Bidding a quick goodbye to Xavier, Jean roused from her telepathic trance and stretched out in the seat. Nearly twenty hours had passed since they had left on this mission, and in that time she'd had only a few catnaps. Smiling at her own pun, she checked on the passengers behind her. The four in the back were out, and Creed was close, but Jubilee still vibrated with energy. Jean wasn't surprised to see a dark mop of hair hanging in the aisle, with a pair of boots propped on the back of the seat.  
  
"I want . . . "Jubilee drawled.  
  
A low growl rumbled from the opposite seat, cutting off when a crumpled wad, once a paper coffee cup, shot across the aisle from Jubilee's side.  
  
"I want . . ." she repeated demandingly. "I want a hot fudge sundae."  
  
"Go to sleep, boss."  
  
"Can't sleep, I'm too wired. I want… a hot tub."  
  
A grumbling sigh came from the other side. "I wanna whiskey. A whole freakin' bottle."  
  
"I want a cheeseburger."  
  
"I wanna steak. From something that used to moo," he clarified. From the sound of it, this was a pastime they'd indulged in often.  
  
"I want a manicure."  
  
"I wanna drive a car. Sick of those camels."  
  
"I want a new pair of jeans."  
  
"I want a real hairbrush." A chuckle came from Jubilee's side. "Hey, you get this much hair on ya, you try combin' it out."  
  
"Umm. I want shampoo, and hair gel, and deodorant."  
  
"Ya smell fine. I want a new pair of boots."  
  
"I want a real bed, with sheets and a quilt."  
  
"I want a real bed with a real woman in it."  
  
"Oh, yeah," Jubilee laughed. "Like you went dry."  
  
"All right, how about a human woman in it?"  
  
"Can't help ya there, Sabey baby."  
  
Jean nearly choked when she heard the nickname fall casually from Jubilee's mouth. Silence stretched out in the cabin.  
  
"So, you gotta girlfriend back home, wondering where you been? Pissed off because you haven't called lately?"  
  
"Any woman I spend time with knows better than to expect me to keep a regular schedule. What about you?"  
  
"Only thing waiting for me is a bunch of incompletes, but I'm not going back there. The first time some professor tells me it's critical I get an assignment done, I'd probably laugh myself sick."  
  
Jean heard the seat protest as Creed shifted. "What about the runt?"  
  
"Well, yeah, I'm sure he's been worried."  
  
"Not what I meant. I always thought you two were gettin' it on."  
  
"Gee, I'm really touched you were worried about my love life, there." The dry sarcasm was rampant.  
  
"Hey, messin' with you was always the easiest way to get a rise out of him. Figured he had a thing for ya."  
  
"Vic, you mess with Wolvie, I will kill you." No sarcasm this time.  
  
"Yeah, boss, I know. Tell ya what, if the runt don't get his head out of his ass, I'll take ya."  
  
A giggle greeted this unromantic proposal. "Oh, be still my beating heart."  
  
A genuine chuckle came from the huge man, a sound Jean had never heard in her life from the vicious Sabretooth. "Go to sleep, boss." 


	3. Confessions and Convictions

Title: Home from the Hill, Chapter 3  
  
Author: Ramos  
  
Rating: PG for language  
  
Category: Adventure  
  
Disclaimer: These characters are the property of Marvel Comics, and no profit is made from their use.  
  
  
  
After several hours Cyclops announced re-entry preparations, and Jean began to wake the passengers. Creed opened his eyes the moment she came into view, so she focused instead on Jubilee, stretched out just opposite. She smiled fondly at the sleeping form. Arms crossed and tucked under each other, huddled against the back of the two-person seat, Jubilee looked like a teenager again. The scar on her cheek was hidden as her head lolled against the lumpy pack being used as a pillow.  
  
"Jubilee," she called softly, reaching down to the thin shoulder. Suddenly, a huge hand wrapped around Jean's own arm and yanked her away.  
  
"Not a good idea, Red," rumbled Creed. His golden yellow eyes were slitted with amusement, and Jean fought the tremble of fear as he drew her back towards him. She could blast him into the bulkheads if he tried anything, but the man released her arm and reached out a toe to the feet hanging off the edge of the bench.  
  
"Boss. Wake up." He nudged the sole of Jubilee's foot.  
  
In a breathtaking instant, Jubilee was on her feet, a white-hot ball of plasma in her open palm, her body tense as a drawn bow. She blinked at Jean twice, then squelched the sizzling display with an audible pop. "Are we home?" she asked around a sudden yawn.  
  
The hair trigger response robbed Jean of all coherent thought. The last time she'd seen Jubilee, the girl was recovering from a broken relationship with the help of hot fudge and ice cream. The woman in front of her had the reflexes of a combat soldier, and the starvation lean muscles in her arms and neck flexed and relaxed as she stretched sleepily. She focused on the older woman with affection and concern.  
  
"Jean? You okay?"  
  
Jean shook off her surprise. "I'm fine, Jubilee. We'll be landing soon. You need to get strapped in."  
  
"Cool." Again Jubilee surprised her by giving the massive Creed a high- five slap. "Goin' home, Vic!"  
  
The entire team was waiting when the Blackbird settled onto the concrete pad. Bobby was the first to sweep in and envelop his partner in crime in a massive hug, with Gambit right behind. Peppered questions and relief- filled laughter rang out in the hanger. Jubilee pulled herself away and gave a quick hug to Xavier before launching herself at the short man who lifted her off the ground in his exuberant hug. Wolverine finally released her, and she rejoined her men and started making introductions. The four strays listened gravely to the recitation of the team members, and nodded as Jubilee named them.  
  
"And I think you all know Victor," she ended dryly, indicating the tall blond. He flashed a toothy response.  
  
She turned to Bishop, then abruptly turned back and took a single step towards Psylocke in the rear of the crowd.  
  
"Betsy," she called commandingly, and the group stilled. The raven-haired Hand assassin startled as she realized Jubilee had picked up on her psychic protest to the Professor.  
  
"Vic answers to me if he messes with any of you. And if you mess with him, then you answer to me as well."  
  
"Jubilee, Betsy is only concerned…" Xavier began in a placating tone.  
  
"With all due respect, Professor, I believe I've made myself perfectly clear."  
  
The stern lines of Jubilee's thin face could have been carved of stone, and Xavier nodded gravely. "Yes, you're quite right. Mr. Creed, you are welcome here. You are all welcome, and we're very glad to have our family together again. However, it is late, and I understand you've had a very hard week. Accommodations have been made on the second floor for everyone. Dr. McCoy will want to give you all physicals in the morning, I'm sure, and . . . "  
  
~My apologies, Jean,~ came Xavier's telepathic voice to Jean Gray as his physical voice continued, multi-tasking his concentration with the ease of years. ~I'd considered the idea that you were exaggerating the changes in our young friend. Now, I believe, we may have underestimated the case. Tell me, do you think she can hear us now?~  
  
~I doubt it, Professor. She told me she's limited by physical proximity and active shields. Psylocke didn't bother to shield just now, but Jubilee has not picked up on anything Scott and I have discussed since I took the same precautions.~  
  
They watched Jubilee lead her team through the tunnel to the main house, maintaining their link to each other. Victor Creed and Bishop brought up the rear, followed by the rest of the team.  
  
~Before we landed, Jubilee told me that Creed will not want to join us, but was willing to stay here under her command. I was sure he'd bolt as soon as we landed, but he seems… I don't know, genuinely attached to her. Not romantically, but spiritually.~  
  
~Yes, I agree. He has pledged his loyalty to her. No small accomplishment for so young a woman, although age has never been a consideration for Jubilee.~  
  
~Professor, she's been an X-man since she was twelve. The question is, what do we do with him?~  
  
Several moments passed before her mentor responded. ~I don't know, Jean. We will have to wait and see how things settle. I have the beginnings of an idea, but I'm not sure how well it will be received.~  
  
Only by promising a full disclosure the next day did Jubilee manage to get her people barracked before midnight. She told Vic to behave himself, asked Bishop to keep an eye on him, then disappeared into her old bathroom with an armful of bath products and threatened dire consequences to anyone who interrupted her for any reason.  
  
Wolverine chuckled at her priorities, but wished her good night and let himself out of the house by the side door. The other's scent caught his attention immediately, but he waited until he got his cigar lit and clicked the heavy lighter shut before turning to the huge man standing in the shadows of the house, staring up at the sky.  
  
Victor inhaled hugely, then let out the breath with a whoosh. "Never thought I'd miss something stupid like the stars." Logan glanced at them casually, but kept his attention on the killer before him.  
  
Creed's nose wrinkled suddenly as he caught the smell of tobacco burning. His large frame twitched with sudden craving. "Got any more of those?" Logan considered it, then pulled another cigar from his shirt pocket and tossed it across the grass. The taller man caught it, then the lighter, with a growl of anticipation.  
  
"I owe ya one."  
  
"You owe Jube one," Wolverine corrected flatly.  
  
Creed was quiet for a moment. "More 'n one."  
  
"You really comin' to heel?"  
  
A light snarl rose through the air. "I gave her my word. Not takin' it back."  
  
"Your word ain't worth spit, not to me. I wanna know why."  
  
"None a yer business."  
  
"I'm making it my business. Jube's my responsibility."  
  
Creed laughed, easily, blowing out the cigar smoke.  
  
"Boss ain't no little girl anymore, runt. Blood an' bones, she a warrior. I'll give ya credit, though. You taught her pretty good."  
  
"So she kicked yer butt, big deal. Why does that mean you do what she says?"  
  
The lighter came arcing back through the darkness, but the silence stretched so long Logan wasn't sure Creed was going to answer him.  
  
Finally, the coal on the cigar grew bright as he drew on it intensely, then exhaled. "Camp got raided one night. Things got crazy fer a while an' I took some hits. I been that bad before, but at least I was on my own planet.  
  
"Then Pint Size starts slapping me around, telling me to die on my own time, 'cause she owned my ass. I got up, and she dragged me out of the line o' fire. I came to, she's lying next to me in the grass – half dead and still got my shirt in her fist."  
  
Creed's shaggy head shook slightly. "I work with pros, runt. I ain't part a yer little clubhouse, here, and she got more reasons to see me dead than to keep me alive. But she did, and more than once." He paused, then snarled lightly. "Shit, what do you want me to say?"  
  
The tip of the cigar glowed brightly again. "She owns me. That's all there is to it."  
  
Logan wasn't convinced, but he detected no lies in the man's familiar, hateful scent. He finished his cigar in silence and stubbed it out in the concrete flowerpot, it's plants long dead from similar mistreatment. "Lock the door when you come back in."  
  
**********  
  
The faint sound of a door shutting brought Logan awake. The clock said it was ungodly early, but the floor creaks echoed in an unfamiliar stealthy stride. He rolled onto his feet and opened his bedroom door to see what he had half expected.  
  
Pillow lines on her face, Jubilee flashed him a broken-toothed grin, but he did not miss the even balance of her feet or the expectant tension in her bare legs under the short terrycloth robe. Even as he watched, she relaxed into the casual slouch he was more familiar with.  
  
"You expecting trouble, Wolvie?"  
  
He shrugged. "Just heard something. What're you doing up?"  
  
"Checking on my people, making sure everything's okay." Her smile turned wistful as she drew her fingers across the carved wooden door trim. "Making sure this isn't a dream."  
  
Logan nodded. "Know what ya mean. I been real worried about ya, kid." The shadows in her eyes drew him across the hall and he folded her into another hug. She rested her forehead on his shoulder for a brief moment.  
  
"I've been kinda worried about me too."  
  
Logan stroked her hair behind one ear and held her close for several long moments. The solid reality of her felt damned good. Finally he patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. "Wanna talk about it?"  
  
He expected her to say no, was prepared for it, but she surprised him by nodding. "Sure. Grab a couple of beers and meet me on the roof."  
  
Five minutes later he'd added a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt to his boxers, but didn't bother to button the shirt. He found a couple of bottles in the bachelor fridge in his room, and even if they were several months old, it was still beer. If the oddity of drinking old beer on the roof at five in the morning didn't bother Jubilee, then it sure didn't bother him.  
  
She was waiting for him, a pair of someone else's jeans blousing large on her narrow hips, and as he handed her the bottle, the physical changes in her hit Logan as hard as it had the others. She opened it and saluted his with a small clink before draining a good third of it.  
  
"Didn't think you liked beer all that much," he commented as he tasted his own.  
  
"College student, remember? We live for beer." She took another sip. "Actually, no, I didn't use to. But you drink resjia for a couple of months." She faked a shudder, but not by much.  
  
"What is it?" he asked, dubious.  
  
"Closest I can come to describing it would be… kimchee juice and everclear, with a dash of grapefruit juice. Served warm."  
  
"Gahhh!"  
  
"You know it," she chuckled, then leaned back on the slight slope to stare at the gradually paling horizon, snuggling deeper into her terry robe against the early morning chill.  
  
"I used to dream about this," she said, after a moment. "Nightmares, I guess. I'd think I was home, or back at school, stressing over a test. Then I'd wake up." The bottle gurgled slightly as she took another drink. "That was the real nightmare, waking up. Knowing it wasn't over."  
  
Wolverine was silent for a moment. "I'm sorry you had to go through that, Jube. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."  
  
"Don't be," she replied softly. "I'm glad you weren't there, Logan. You wouldn't have liked it, and you and Vic would have killed each other."  
  
He grunted. "I'm still havin' trouble with the whammy you put on him. Can you trust him?"  
  
"Of course not," she replied. "But I trust him enough to know he'll hit the road before he goes too nuts." He raised an eyebrow at the assurance in her voice, but let it pass without comment.  
  
They sat companionably for a while, until Jubilee's quiet voice finally broke the silence. "When everything started, I was so sure the gang would figure out what happened, or else Gateway would send us home again. I finally realized you guys didn't have a clue where we were, that we were on our own."  
  
A massive yawn hit her out of nowhere, and she settled into a more comfortable position. "I got mad at you, a few times. Stupid, I know."  
  
"Because I didn't come get you?" he asked, steeling himself, but she shook her head.  
  
"Because you never told me how easy it was to kill people, after a while."  
  
He turned to look at her, and she looked back steadily. "I hated that part. I'd puke and cry and I really hated myself, and you, and especially Gateway." A rueful smile twisted her mouth. "I know you're expecting me to lose it and cry on ya. Don't worry. I've been there, done that, and bought the tacky souvenirs. Do people still use that expression?" She laughed lightly, then paused. "I think… I think even Vic got tired of the killing."  
  
"God, Jube..."  
  
"Don't. You saved me, Wolvie. I mean it, you really did."  
  
Logan took a shuddering breath. "How?"  
  
"Do you remember that night you showed me the Yashida clan sword?" Jubilee looked out over the grounds, her face pale and calm in the dawning light. A light breeze toyed with the small wings of hair still tousled from her sleep. "You told me how they made the swords, how the craftmasters would heat the steel, and beat on it, and fold it over and beat it some more."  
  
"Tempering."  
  
"Yeah. Tempering. You told me it was the strongest steel ever made, and it would last for centuries. So that's what I was. I was being tempered." Her face turned towards him again. "And I am. I'm okay."  
  
The first true light broke over the grounds and she raised her face to the sun, the bright rays highlighting the scar on her face. He could see the strength and inner balance of her, the lethal potential in a beautiful, lean package. He could almost understand how Creed would give his allegiance to this woman.  
  
He just wished he knew who this woman was.  
  
"Okay."  
  
She nodded, smiling, eyes still closed in pure appreciation of the moment. The last of her beer disappeared in a long swallow and she settled back and started spinning a story about Creed, a camel-like creature, and his first attempt to ride one which ended up with them having to eat it for dinner. Logan was still chuckling when he realized she'd dozed off, a slight curve remaining on her lips. He let her sleep, and no one came looking for either of them for two more hours.  
  
**********  
  
The morning was spent in silly moments and profound silences as Jubilee settled her team into their new home. Bishop moved back into his room with a minimum of fuss, but Jubilee's college apartment and all her belongings had been packed into boxes after her disappearance. She and the girl named Dee had a giggly girl fest going through the clothes, trying things on and making a list of necessities. Her other dependents were given a crash course orientation on the mansion, the grounds, and local culture. Plans were tentatively laid for education and assimilation.  
  
Dr. McCoy gave each of them a cursory physical, but needed no explanation when Jubilee insisted on going first, while Dee watched, and afterwards stayed and let Dee hold her hand with bone crushing fierceness as the teenager endured her own brief exam. Afterwards, he entered Jubilee's terse outline in the medical records he started.  
  
When his turn came, Creed smirked and bared a huge barrel chest with a hairy expanse that rivaled Hank's own. A small starburst of naked white skin showed in the center.  
  
"I didn't think you scarred, Mr. Creed." Hank commented.  
  
Thick talons scratched at the spot idly. "Not usually. It's healin', though. Oughta be gone in a coupla months."  
  
"Battle wound?" Hank queried, noting it in the record.  
  
"Nah. Object lesson."  
  
A blue eyebrow raised. Creed grinned at him, sharply curved canines glinting. "Lee said I wasn't paying attention."  
  
Hank's favorite expression popped into his head. On second examination, the scar was not a starburst. It was a handprint.  
  
"I see," he temporized. "And did she get your attention, then?"  
  
"Oh, yeah."  
  
While Hank kept Creed busy in the med lab, a summit was called in the Professor's office. Scott and Ororo, as leaders of the two teams, were present with Bishop as head witness. Wolverine invited himself, and no one was willing to attempt to eject him. Scott was reaching to close the door when Jubilee entered silently and perched on the windowsill, one foot on the opposite side of the frame. Her right leg hung down, the energy pistol in a worn leather holster strapped around her gaunt thigh. Scott gave it a frown.  
  
"Jubilee, is it really necessary to wear that here?"  
  
Not bothering to reply, Jubilee simply smiled and gave Bishop's over-the- shoulder shotgun a significant look, and Scott tried a more direct tactic. "We had not intended – it's really not necessary for you to attend this meeting."  
  
"Too bad, Cyclops. If this is about Vic, then I'm here."  
  
He yielded on both points and resumed the matter at hand. Within minutes, she was pacing the floor. "No, I can't guarantee he won't flip out. I'm 95% sure of him, though. He knows the door is open, and if he stays here, it's by his choice. He also knows that if he acts up, I'll take care of him."  
  
"Acts up," Scott echoed with disbelief.  
  
"How can you be sure, Jubilee?" asked Storm, her white brows frowning in concern. "He is a killer, and he has a history of irrational behavior and berserk episodes. Unlike Wolverine, you have no tie to him, so you can't be sure you can talk him down."  
  
"You're wrong. He does have a tie to me." She stopped pacing and tried to explain her gut instincts. "It took me a while to figure it out, but Vic's really not a loner. He deals with things better in a pack mentality. Right, Professor?"  
  
Xavier steepled his fingers. "Your simile is flawed, Jubilee, but essentially you are correct. Mr. Creed's violent nature has not abated substantially, but his psyche is no longer as chaotic. He now has a focus, and that focus centers on Jubilee. She is his Lionne Reine.[1]"  
  
"Which brings up another question. Why would a man like Creed accept Jubilee as a superior?" Scott asked. "He could break her in half, and he's got a history of trying. I'm sorry, we simply can't trust him."  
  
"Scott, Vic's mine. Just like my hand, or my powers, or my gun. He belongs to me."  
  
"So, what, are we supposed to give him a uniform and say, hey, welcome to the team?" His thick sarcasm was unusual, and Jubilee let him settle before she answered.  
  
"No. He'll never follow your orders. But he'll follow mine, because he respects me in a way he'll never respect you."  
  
The red sunglasses glowed with her leader's controlled irritation. "And why is that?"  
  
Jubilee hesitated, then raised her chin. "Because. If it comes down to it, you'll hesitate to kill. And I won't."  
  
Shocked silence fell in the room.  
  
"I can't believe you just said that," Scott murmured.  
  
"Don't get me wrong, Cyclops. I still respect the dream. I still believe that life is sacred, that X-men are not supposed to kill. But when it comes down to them or me, in a combat situation, I pick me. I chose me and mine over some asshole who's trying to blow my head off."  
  
"And that makes Creed respect you?"  
  
"'Fraid so. Vic has seen me kill, and he knows I'll kill to protect him, just as he knows you won't."  
  
"You say that word so easily."  
  
"What, kill? It's just a word, Cyke."  
  
Scott shook his head. "What happened to you, Jubilee?" It was just an idle question, but the room was suddenly stifling, with too many people watching what should have been a private moment between her and the man she considered both her leader and a father figure. Wordlessly, she reached out a mental touch to Xavier, who helped her fledgling psychic ability project to the man in front of her, and, almost as an afterthought, the other occupants in the room.  
  
The memory rolled hard and solid into their minds as she took them with her, and as one they felt the damp earth squelch under her boots as she moved from the cooking fires to the barely intact stone barn she and the other soldiers had barracked in for the time being. They saw a man approach her, the son of a local lord who had tried to charm his way into her bed and therefore, her newly surfaced ability had revealed, the command of the people around her. She'd brushed off his advances, frustrating his bid for power, and things were tense between them.  
  
Collectively the others saw the fist swinging towards her, felt the impact on her arm as she deflected the blow, then the charge of his broad shoulder catching her in the ribs and taking her down to the slick beaten path. They caught the stench of his breath as he called her a witch and a whore, the strain of muscles as she fought back, getting apart enough to land a solid kick. The other soldiers and the camp followers and the refugees she'd sought to protect came running, gathering in a loose circle, all of them waiting to see the outcome of the attempted coup instead of coming to her aid -- all of them past the veneer of civilization to a brutal survival mentality that acknowledged only the strongest among them as leader.  
  
Her teammates all felt the moment her stomach dropped and she realized this had to be done without her mutant abilities, or else the crowd of refugees would always doubt she could have won without being a witch, and the vicious fight that followed. Finally getting in a series of punches and kicks on a man that outweighed her, outreached her, and laying him out with a combination that sent him staggering into the crowd and onto his belly, momentarily stunned.  
  
"It's over," she announced, wiping the stinging salt from her eyes. The beaten man nodded sullenly, and slowly got off the ground. He was waiting, though, and the moment her attention slipped he lunged at her with a roar and swung the glaive he'd appropriated from one of the spectators. Less than an ax, but so much more than a cleaver, she whirled and recoiled almost in time. The sharp edge missed all but the curve of her cheek, laying it open for inches down her face before it spanged off her tooth with a sickening snap. Jubilee ducked, backpedaled frantically, then a spatha came spinning out of the crowd, arcing above her. She snatched it from the air and parried in a move that left even Logan disconcerted.  
  
In the small, cozy, book-lined room each person felt the stab of cold air in the open wound, tasted the blood as she spat it out, and felt the burning muscles and protesting body as she fought for her life. Logan especially recognized the rage, burning and narrowing the world to the clang of weapons and grunts of effort, the physical strain of fending off a punishing assault as she searched for an opening. The one moment that stretched indefinitely as the opening was seen, taken, and the sudden hot rush of blood over her hands. The faint surprise in eyes so close to hers, fading out as the body sagged and what was once a living being slid off her weapon and landed with a thump on the ground.  
  
She spat more blood out, feeling the broken stub of the tooth with her tongue. Her heart beat fiercely in her chest, her lungs choking with an emotion that had nothing to do with exultation, but only relief that she was the one standing and not lying on the ground.  
  
"Anybody else?" she shouted harshly, eyeing the silent circle of people. Creed and Bishop moved up behind her, more felt than seen, and a snarl split the air as her one-time enemy echoed her challenge. One man at the front of the crowd met her eyes.  
  
"Lee!" he bellowed, and thumped his chest with a fist.  
  
"Lee!" two others shouted, echoing the salute, then others took it up, shouting her name in a ferocious rhythmic cadence and parting like a wheat field before her as she stalked through the crowd to the town well. A local boy ran to pull up the bucket for her, the hero worship in his eyes turning her stomach as blood dripped steadily from her chin and from the short sword in her hand. And behind her, Sabretooth's triumphant, dominant roar gave voice to the brutal passion in her own silent throat.  
  
Scott staggered as the vision faded, putting one hand out to the desk to steady himself. Even Xavier looked stunned. After a moment he reached out gently to her, and when she granted permission, took a long look through her memories, noting the scars and the ragged bits of her mind which were still raw in spots, but showed signs of healing. Nothing jabbed at him, no screams echoed in the distance of her mind-scape. The constant low-grade worry for the warriors she'd left behind and the concern for people who had depended on her still nagged, as did the painful memories of those who'd died. But her self-image as a tempered sword came to light, and he nodded in agreement.  
  
"Creed stays, as long as Jubilee grants him parole. The others will need time to assimilate."  
  
Scott nodded, still shaky from the sensory overload.  
  
"Jubilee, I leave the disposition of your people in your hands. They're welcome to stay here as long as necessary."  
  
"Thank you, Professor."  
  
----------------------- [1] French – Lion Queen 


	4. Settling In

Title: Home from the Hill, chapter 4  
  
Author: Ramos  
  
Rating: PG for language  
  
Category: Adventure  
  
Disclaimer: These characters are the property of Marvel Comics, and no profit is made from their use. Only borrowed, not stolen. Played with carefully. Sorta.  
  
Feedback: Please?  
  
  
  
"I am not wearing that," Dee said stubbornly. "It's not decent."  
  
"Girlfriend, I have to remind you to wear a shirt over your bra, and you think this isn't decent?" Jubilee asked, holding out the catalog folded to show a model wearing a three-quarter-length skirt. "This is absolutely perfect with that sweater, and you can't just wear pants all the time."  
  
The youngest woman in the room hunched her shoulders, but refused to give in. "If it went to the floor, I'd consider it, but I will not show my ankles in public, and that's final."  
  
Jean's smirk from the other side of the room did not help as Jubilee tried to deal with the obstinate teenager. "Fine," Jubilee sighed, and tossed the catalog at the redhead. "You can order her some more pants."  
  
"Every culture has their own taboos, Jubilee." Jean's voice sounded strained as she struggled to maintain a straight face. "If Dee considers her lower legs risqué, then you should respect that. We can make her some long skirts, or she can continue to wear the trousers she's comfortable with."  
  
Jubilee glared at her. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"  
  
"What, you arguing with a teenager over what she can and cannot wear?" Unable to control herself any longer, Jean collapsed in a peal of giggles. "Oh, yes. Immensely."  
  
Dee's blue eyebrows drew together in puzzlement as she watched her commander stick her tongue out at the red-headed woman, but shrugged it off as Storm peeked into the room. "Dee, your brother is asking for you."  
  
"Yes, ma'am. Do you know where he is?"  
  
"Respect from my juniors. How refreshing." Jubilee ignored the gibe, and Storm smiled. "He's in the garage with Bishop. He said you'd enjoy seeing how our vehicles work."  
  
Still baffled by the behavior of the older women, Dee left.  
  
Storm stepped aside to let her pass, then entered the room and cast an amused glance over the clothing and catalogs strewn about. "I'm also to remind you, Jubilee, that you're due in the Danger Room shortly. Cyclops and the Professor are interested in measuring any differences in your pyrotechnic abilities, and you specifically requested they evaluate the possibility of you rejoining the team."  
  
"Yeah, I remember. I'll be there. And hey, added bonus of not having to stare at little cards with circles and stars on them any longer."  
  
"Her telepathy appears to be one-sided," Jean elaborated when Storm raised an eyebrow. "We've established that she can hear anyone who 'shouts', whether or not they're psychic, but she cannot send effectively unless the listener also has some telepathic ability."  
  
"Let's not forget the whole ability to eavesdrop bit," Jubilee added blithely. "I thought I was going to choke on dinner last night."  
  
Storm grinned in wild speculation as Jean blushed. "In the future I'll be more careful about my shields when I'm talking to my husband." She grabbed the nearest glossy catalog in an attempt to forestall any further questions. The western wear choices had heavy circles around several items, including a pair of dark blue riding pants with reinforced seams, and a double breasted cavalry shirt in a similar color.  
  
"Talking, huh? Is that what it's called?" Having turned the tables on the teasing, Jubilee wasn't about to let it go. "You know, I didn't finish college, but I'm pretty sure that's not…."  
  
"Enough," interrupted Storm, taking pity on her friend. "So you can hear, but not send. A pity. That could have come in handy in combat. You could telepathically direct those under your command."  
  
"As if Vic would listen to me. Usually, I just kinda pointed him in the right direction and set him loose."  
  
A lady-like snort came from Jean's direction as she gathered the scattered clothing. "Funny, that's how Scott used to describe telling Wolverine what to do."  
  
Storm chuckled. "What is truly appalling is how alike Wolverine and Sabretooth are."  
  
"Other than the two foot difference in height, and the whole psychotic killer bit," Jubilee drawled. "Actually, he's doing a lot better. I doubt he's gonna curl up on the Professor's couch and meditate any time soon, but a few months hanging around here ought to help him."  
  
Storm frowned at the mention of mention of months. "Jubilee, are you sure you won't reconsider returning to college? You had only one semester left, and you could easily rejoin the team then."  
  
Jubilee shook her head apologetically, but her tone was firm. Sorry, Stormy. Nothin' doing. I can't leave my troops here alone with people they don't know. And I can't leave Vic without a leash. He needs someone to remind him who's boss on occasion."  
  
A slender white eyebrow rose. "Remind him - what an odd word to use. The display you two put on three days ago was the closest I've seen to all out warfare enacted in the Danger Room."  
  
Jubilee's hand flew out in a dismissive gesture. "That? That was just a dominance spat. Happens all the time."  
  
"You could barely walk out on your own two feet," Jean reminded her tartly.  
  
"Yeah, but who walked out, and who was just plain out - cold?" A roguish grin revealed Jubilee's broken tooth again, and Jean decided to let it drop.  
  
"Jubilee," Storm called pointedly, "The time? You are expected in the Danger Room…"she checked the clock on the nightstand, "three minutes ago."  
  
"Nag, nag, nag," Jubilee huffed under her breath, but shoved her feet into her worn boots and clomped off. The older women accompanied her as far as the Observation booth, letting her make her own way to the large brushed- metal doors of the Danger Room. Inside, Storm took the last empty chair behind Bishop as Wolverine rose from his place behind Scott and offered it to Jean. She took it automatically, knowing it was useless to argue with him over a courtesy that was second nature to him.  
  
"You're late, Jubilee," chided Bishop over the intercom as she entered the arena below.  
  
In response, Jubilee rolled her shoulders and made a hand gesture that Storm and Jean did not recognize, but had no doubt was rude. "Fire it up, Bish."  
  
Switched clicked and a hum rose from the main computer, and seconds later the featureless floor and walls of the Danger Room became an old-growth forest. The widely spaced trees were ideal for attackers to hide behind, and the generated soldiers in black combat uniforms blended easily in the deep shadows. On the various monitors and tattletale electronic displays, Scott watched Jubilee fend off the first attacker.  
  
Noting the ease of her defense, he tapped a key and bumped up the threat level of the simulation a single percentage. In the chair beside him, Bishop made a small noise of disgust. Wolverine had to agree with him. "Cyke, you've had Jubilee run tougher sims than this when she was home on holiday. I think she can handle a little more than this kiddie routine."  
  
Two more commandos had joined the first on the forest floor, and Scott shrugged. "Fine." The indicator LED's glowed higher as he raised the level again. The next pair of attackers actually took several blows before being dispatched.  
  
"That's more like it!" rose Jubilee's tinny voice from the intercom. An ambush from the rear took her attention, and she spun to meet it.  
  
"Why isn't she using her powers?" questioned Storm after a few minutes. She startled when a deep voice answered her; she hadn't realized Creed had followed her into the booth.  
  
"Lee likes to keep the big guns until later in the fight," he rumbled. "Gui'vos tended to target her, once they figured out she was in charge."  
  
Cyclops considered that for a moment, then tapped the keys again. He watched his youngest team member move fluidly from one opponent to the next, able to see the martial arts he had first started teaching her ten years ago in her smooth dispatch, along with the style of the others who'd taught her how to fight. A move that was pure Gambit caught his eye, and he had to smile.  
  
Bishop's large brown finger landed on the keyboard during a slight pause in the action, and Scott did not object as the display crept up higher yet. Below, the action became more frenetic as three computer generated figures converged on Jubilee. For the first time, a colored ball of light flew from her hand and caught one of the black-coated wraiths, blowing him backwards into a tree with the same decisive thump that worked so well against Sabretooth. Two more were blinded by a spray of phosphorus-bright sparks and were quickly dealt with. Scott and Jean peered at the readouts as Jubilee continued to fight the simulation.  
  
The six people watching her noticed when her fluid style changed, becoming more precise, less forgiving. The graceful martial arts gave way to a brutal efficiency of movement and energy. Several attackers were dropped within moments of their appearance, burned 'fatally' while their legs still propelled them forwards. The screen in front of Scott indicated that more of the injuries would have been deadly, rather than merely rendering the opponent unconscious.  
  
Scott brought up the data from Jubilee's last evaluation nearly a year ago, and compared it to the new temperature and energy levels that changed every time a concussive shock vibrated the reinforced plexiglass in front of them. "Damn. She has gotten stronger." Bishop did not bother to answer, but tapped his favorite control several more times. The yellow lights on the control panel changed to orange, then red.  
  
In the Danger Room, Jubilee's shirt darkened with sweat, and the monitors that caught her expression revealed her intense focus as she fought and whirled, one moment shooting plasma from her hands and seconds later delivering physical blows. The never-ending stream of artificial opponents continued to fall around her, blinking out of existence and allowing floor space for the next who expired.  
  
When the flood of simulated commandos finally died, Jubilee took several much needed breaths and scrubbed the sweat out of her eyes with her sleeve. Peering up, she was able to make out the figures watching her from the enclosure above.  
  
"Vic?" she called up.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Bishop been playing with the controls up there?" A deep chuckle was all the answer she needed. "He touches anything else, I want you to break his finger, 'kay?"  
  
"My pleasure," the big man replied.  
  
Bishop's hand was still resting over the keypad. His finger moved a bare smidgen once, eliciting a responsive twitch from Creed. The finger quivered again. A sound rose from Creed's chest, not quite a growl, but a series of deep guttural clicks that sounded almost like amusement. Bishop's face gave nothing away, but Logan could sense the lack of true hostility between the two.  
  
"Well -- this is interesting," came Jubilee's voice from the speaker. Belatedly he glanced back to the simulation where an oversized Sentinal was striding through the generated forest towards Jubilee. Logan shifted his weight, a familiar tension constricting his chest. He'd fought this scenario's finale before. It was a bitch.  
  
"First mistake was letting me know you were coming." Jubilee's hands cupped at her sides, cradling tiny balls of pure white light which swiftly grew larger than basketballs and spit sparks of different colors. A nimbus of pink and blue plasma arced between and around her fingers as the metallic leviathan came closer.  
  
The steady thump of metal feet was deafeningly loud as it bore down on its small opponent, and did not pause as Jubilee hurled both balls of energy at it. The orbs leapt eagerly from her hands and sped, one after the other, to impact the metal form as it raised its weapons.  
  
"No time for mistake number two," intoned Bishop ritually as Jubilee threw herself behind a large tree trunk. His words were all but lost in the twin detonations of her attack, explosions so intense the floor shook beneath the observers' feet, and warning systems lit up all over the control board. The view screen automatically polarized to shield the viewers from the intense light, so they could only guess at what parts of the destroyed automaton rained against the darkened window. As it slowly cleared, Jubilee's panting voice came clearly across the intercom.  
  
"Indiana Jones, eat your heart out."  
  
"Showoff," Creed muttered as the screen cleared.  
  
Bishop shut down the simulation and left Scott and Jean to peruse the results. "She should know better – her blood sugar will crash in the next few minutes. You go get her and meet me in the kitchen. I'll find her something to eat." Creed grunted in agreement and followed him out, rather to the others' surprise.  
  
Storm moved forward to take Bishop's vacated seat, and Wolverine moved forward to read over her shoulder. "Well?" he asked.  
  
The computer flickered as it made comparisons and projections. Below, Sabretooth entered the Danger Room and hauled a shaky Jubilee to her feet. Her laughter came over the speakers at some comment from the man, and Wolverine's eyes narrowed at the still surreal spectacle of Victor Creed slinging a casual arm around Jubilee's shoulders.  
  
Scott finally answered. "If Jubilee can consistently produce energy blasts like this, then Alpha class is a given."  
  
"I'm not so sure, Scott. If she is weakened that much…"  
  
"Gimme a break, Jeanie," Wolverine interrupted. "If she's been in combat non-stop like she says, she's got no reserves left. Why else d'ya figure she's so scrawny?" He poked the read-out. "Get her some regular eats, Cyke, and she'll be giving you a run for your money."  
  
Cyclops had to agree. Jubilee and her strays had eaten an astonishing quantity of food since their retrieval. Hank, in his capacity as a doctor, had specifically encouraged the consumption of protein and calcium while surreptitiously donating his Twinkies to Jubilee's voracious junk food appetite. The teenagers Dee and Tommy had been on the borderline of malnutrition, and even Bishop had been far below his normal weight. Creed, the only one of the group still up to his 'fighting weight,' had been given a considerable amount of ribbing at dinnertime for his ability (and tendency) to eat damn near anything, cooked or not.  
  
"Alpha class," Cyclops pronounced to the room at large, then rose and left to tell Xavier the X-Men had another member.  
  
*********  
  
Storm finished the paper she was grading and flipped it over to start on the next. Next to her, Jubilee huffed a sigh worthy of the teenager she once was and reapplied her wandering mind to the math problems.  
  
"Ya know, 'Ro, when I said I wasn't going back to school, I didn't think you'd get your revenge by making me teach school instead."  
  
"It's only temporary, Jubilation. At the rate Dee and Tommy are learning, they'll soon be beyond the level you and I can competently instruct them."  
  
Jubilee continued to run the red pencil in her hand down the row of figures, looking for mistakes. She didn't find any. The two youngest strays were sponges, picking up the contents of the standard texts and skills with astonishing speed.  
  
"I'm gonna ask them if they want to go to Massachusetts," she finally confessed. "They both need more challenge than we can give them."  
  
"Charles mentioned something similar to me just a few days ago, and I think it's an excellent idea. Being among other teenagers might give them a sense of belonging they don't have here."  
  
Jubilee picked at the tattered edge of one sheet of paper. "They deserve a chance to be kids, Storm. Both of them have spent way too much time as soldiers. They need to learn how to be something else."  
  
"Have you given any thought to what they might do with themselves, after they've completed their education?" Storm asked gently.  
  
"A little. Dee could probably dye her hair and pass as human, but Tommy's skin just gets darker in the sun. At least, it did back where they come from," she amended. "I'm sure we could scare up an image inducer if he really wanted to try going out in society." The red pencil drummed on the tabletop restlessly. "I guess it's really up to them, though."  
  
One shoulder shrugged, but Storm was not fooled by Jubilee's offhand manner. The older woman patted her hand sympathetically. "Letting go is always hard, Jubilee. If you truly believe it is in their best interest, then you must put aside your own feelings."  
  
"I promised I'd take care of them, though. Sending them away is breaking that promise. And Chibar… I can't even get him to come into the house during the day."  
  
The bleak tone of voice pulled at Storm's heart; she had spent much of the last two months with Jubilee and her people, helping them acclimate themselves to their new lives, and knew the deep affection and tremendous loyalty the group felt towards their leader was returned in full. "Give the man some more time, Jubilee. His world has changed radically, and he's not as young and resilient as the others. And giving Dee and Tommy the education and the freedom to explore a life of their own choosing is fulfilling your promise, Jubilee, not breaking it. Do not be so harsh with yourself. Even X-men leave the fold."  
  
The younger woman did not look convinced. Storm put her head to one side, considering. "Why don't we take a trip to Snow Valley, the four of us, and tour the school? Dee and Tommy can look things over, and decide for themselves. You will not be sending them away, you will be allowing them to leave. Does that satisfy your sense of honor?"  
  
Against her will, Jubilee's mouth twitched. "Oh, alright. Sounds good."  
  
"Wonderful. We'll call this afternoon. Now," she continued, turning over another paper, "if we could get your other student to simply turn in his homework, I would feel my life were complete."  
  
The light sarcasm brought Jubilee's brow down to a frown. "Tweed skipping out again?" In the two months they'd been in Westchester, Tweedle's name had shortened and become Tweed. Even having it pointed out that tweed was a fabric worn by librarians and geeks, he had insisted it was a camouflage pattern and stuck with it.  
  
"Of course he is. And Bishop is no help at all, he positively encourages it."  
  
"We'll just see about that," muttered Jubilee. She cast her mental tendrils out into the mansion - while she could not contact Tweed or Bishop with a psychic communication, she had been working with Jean and Charles on how to mentally reach her mind out to feel the people around her, and was getting much better at it.  
  
"Got him. He's in Bishop's room, and they've got company." Her wry comment brought Storm's attention.  
  
"What, is Remy in there teaching him how to drink bourbon?"  
  
"Nope. Cable's here."  
  
"Good heavens," responded Storm. "Worse. Much worse."  
  
Tweed attempted a charming grin when his annoyed superior appeared in Bishop's quarters, but the narrowed eyes told him he was in trouble. He cast a guilty look at the pile of homework on a table - it was obvious he'd used it as an excuse to join the other two men in discussing the military hardware spread out on every surface.  
  
"Tweed! You can play with Bishop and Cable's toys when you're done with the work I gave you," she informed him, ignoring the affronted looks from the other two at hearing their pride and joy called 'toys.'  
  
"C'mon, boss," he attempted. "I'll get it done later."  
  
"The deal was, you pass the GED and you don't have to take the same classes as your little sister. When you do pass, you can tell me to go to hell. Until then, you follow orders."  
  
Bishop gave the young man a sympathetic glance, but wisely did not interfere.  
  
Cable, who had taken a liking to Tweed, gave him a wink. "No problem, there, Jubilation. We'll help the kid out."  
  
Unfortunately, Jubilee saw the wink and pointed a warning finger to the gray-haired man. "You give him one answer and so help me, I'll put rollerblades on you and make you learn to skate."  
  
He peered down at Jubilee from his full twelve-inch advantage in height. "You wouldn't dare."  
  
"Try me."  
  
Cable's cybernetic eye glinted at her, and she returned a nasty smirk.  
  
"Advice," he grumbled in surrender. "No help."  
  
"Good."  
  
Cable might have said more, but Charles Xavier's mental voice reached them all and changed the mood in the room immediately.  
  
X-Men. Please assemble in the Briefing Room in fifteen minutes. Sabretooth, this includes you.  
  
**********  
  
Victor Creed wasn't thrilled about putting on another shirt with Xavier's little 'X' on it, but the boss had tossed it to him three weeks ago and told him to wear it or choke on it. Taking orders from Pint Size had rubbed him the wrong way from the beginning, but he was minding it less and less. He was still confident he could kill her with just a little effort, but he'd sworn to follow her to get off that backwater cesspool of a planet, and she'd kept her end of the bargain. He usually didn't care whether he broke his word, but things hadn't turned out too bad, and she had pulled his fat out of the fire on a few occasions. Not to mention that for such a small piece she had a hell of a punch in those little fireworks of hers.  
  
She trusted him to watch her back, and that was something he didn't usually get. He also trusted her, too, and that was definitely unusual. The fact that she actually acted like she gave a shit if he lived or died was something he'd never experienced at all. Lotta people wanted him dead. Other than her, Sabretooth couldn't think of anyone that wanted him to stay alive. The novelty of that alone was interesting enough to put up with the current situation for a while longer.  
  
The circular table in the Briefing Room was littered with papers when he followed Jubilee in. Cable, Tweed, Dee, and Tommy had taken a row of chairs against the far wall, out of the way but able to observe. The Professor glanced at them as they entered, and it was obvious they were the last two to show up. The rest of the group looked at the incongruous pair; one blonde and hugely tall, the other dark and petite, but dressed in identical blue trousers, topped by matching double-breasted cavalry shirts similar to the type Bishop often wore. Stenciled on the left pectoral was a circled 'X' in bright yellow.  
  
Xavier merely nodded in greeting, ignoring any possible statement that might have been made by or about the change in uniform, and began to lay out the details of the mission. The facts rolled into Creed's brain as he listened without really paying attention. The reasons, suspicions, and careful weighing of facts meant nothing to him. It was a situation – it needed fixing. That was the biggest difference between himself and the others. If they had a problem, they hadta justify themselves. In Creed's mind, if someone did something to piss you off, then it was their fault if they got hurt when you decked their ass. Ethics and justifications were for geeks and losers.  
  
His heart rate increased at the prospect of violence, and while Lee would specifically forbid him from killing anyone, he knew he'd be able to vent some of the restlessness that continually plagued him. Across the table, Xavier finally quit yammering, only to let Summers pick it up. As far as Creed was concerned, they took an ungodly amount of time to say they didn't have a clue where their objective was, but they had to find a hidden lab somewhere in the paramilitary terrorist compound. This outfit didn't give one extra rat's ass about mutants compared to all the other minorities they considered threats, but they were apparently ready to kill or die over issues a large percentage of the world didn't even know existed. A quick glance around showed everyone was nodding in agreement like dashboard Chihuahuas. Wolverine, chewing on the end of an unlit cigar, was the only person who looked as fidgety as Creed felt.  
  
He was ready to let loose a growl to get the show on the road when the boss leaned forward and placed both hands flat on the table. Bishop noticed too; they were both familiar with the signs when the little wheels started turning in Jubilee's head and one of her plans started rolling out.  
  
"Something you want to add, Jubilee?" Scott queried.  
  
Her hands left the tabletop and began to sift through the scattered hard copy and riffle through the electronic displays. A bubblegum pink nail tapped on the display screen, which obligingly enlarged the bird's-eye view of the compound.  
  
"There's a security camera in there."  
  
Near the fence stood a forlorn knot of dying trees. A tiny metallic glint was revealed against the dull leaves.  
  
Scott moved to her side. "So?"  
  
"Why are they hiding the camera? These others," and she indicated the fence line, "they already cover the perimeter."  
  
She shuffled through the papers again, then stacked them and used the straight edge to simulate a line of sight from the trees to the compound within. At one point, it lined up with a small alcove on a nondescript building. Enlarging it, she tapped the keyboard and had it run through the time-lapse shots gathered.  
  
At only one time did a figure show; an obvious guard in the act of smoking a cigarette. She froze the display.  
  
"Even they gotta go outside," Wolverine growled.  
  
The corner of her mouth twitched, but otherwise his longstanding resentment over clean air rules was ignored. "There's your lab," Jubilee stated.  
  
"How can you be sure?" Jean asked. By now, the entire team was gathered closely, watching the unfolding detective work.  
  
"His weapon." At maximum magnification, the grainy sidearm was barely discernable. "All these other goons have rifles, but this boy's an inside- only guard. Whatever they've got down there, they don't want to take the chance of blowing it away with maximum firepower. And they want to keep an eye on it without being too obvious."  
  
"Gotta be a door in that corner," Wolverine stated. "No way he'd wander that far from the other entrances just for a smoke."  
  
"There are no power lines going into that building," Scott pointed out.  
  
"Really? So how come they've got that huge ass air-conditioner on the roof? That sucker's big enough to ventilate a five-story building. Maybe they just like it extra cold in there."  
  
"Where there's a lab, there most assuredly will be computers, which require substantial cooling, even in underground facilities," Hank offered.  
  
Pink Ray-Bans appeared from Jubilee's pocket and landed on her nose with an insouciant flourish. "I say we go heat things up a bit. Send in a small team here, everyone else makes a lot of noise over there, and boom, we're in."  
  
Cyclops eyed her speculatively. "Who do you take in?"  
  
"Vic, Bishop…" Only someone familiar with the body language of a person wearing glasses would have noticed the slight hesitation as Jubilee's hidden eyes flicked to Wolverine, then past. "And Gambit. Maximum damage."  
  
Red lenses peered at pink ones until Scott was confident she wasn't going to back down, second-guess herself, or show any of the insecure, unsure signs of a junior officer. He finally nodded, just once.  
  
"Do it."  
  
  
  
Jubilee and Bishop burst back into the lab, startling Gambit as he argued with the security lock on the stubborn inner door. Across the room, Sabretooth kept a watchful eye on the scientists and disarmed guards huddled in the corner. Apparently bored, he was tossing glass beakers and vials with uncertain contents into what had been an expensive freezer unit. On it's back, the wads of papers, books and other debris within it burned fitfully as more liquid hit the flames. Occasionally, it would flare brightly as something flammable splashed.  
  
"Having a good time?" Jubilee asked as she dropped a metal rectangle of computer innards onto the counter beside him. She spared a single, minute thought for the hope that nothing too nasty was incubating in the contents of his new hobby.  
  
Creed looked up from the wreckage thoughtfully. "Had better."  
  
"Kill anyone?"  
  
"No," he snarled truculently.  
  
"Good boy."  
  
"Fuck you."  
  
"Buy me dinner first," she said, absently, focusing on LeBeau's activities. "Gambit, wha'd'ya find?"  
  
"We got something special down dis hallway, Petite, but the access code be playin' hard to get!"  
  
Gambit shoved one of his electronic toys into the card slot, fiddling, but the panel blew another digital raspberry at him and refused to open. "Them boys over there got mighty nervous when I asked what's down here, and they don' wanna answer Gambit when he ask real nice!"  
  
"Vic!" Jubilee snapped. "Grab one of those white coats and get him over here! Bishop, watch the corridor."  
  
"Hell, yeah!" Creed rumbled, picking a likely target and stalking towards him. In seconds, a pudgy man in a white coat was unceremoniously thrust in front of Jubilee and the stubborn door.  
  
"Open it," she ordered.  
  
Dr. Willard Franklin was having a very, very bad day. Budget meetings that morning had slashed his operating expenditures, his lunch had been delivered cold, and only five minutes ago his entire laboratory had been overrun by a squad of mutants who had blasted their way in, overwhelmed the few guards, and proceeded to destroy every single piece of very costly equipment. The main computers had been melted into slag by the woman who appeared to be in charge, and unfortunately she had followed the cables to the backup mainframe. The smoke trickling through the ventilation gave none of his subordinates much hope that the auxiliary system had been spared. Those who managed to look beyond the loss of years of work were busy being highly terrified of the mutant who'd taken such enjoyment of wrecking things.  
  
He drew what little dignity he had left, considering he was on his knees, around him. "No. I won't. The subjects aren't even mutants, you couldn't possibly be interested in them." The alarm claxon had been going off for several minutes, and he was certain the security would discover these intruders at any moment. it could only be a matter of time before the other guards in the complex discovered the break in. Really, he had no idea what was taking them so long.  
  
"Subjects? You've got live -human - test subjects in here?" The surprise in her voice disappeared as she clamped down on any emotions. "Vic. Break his arm."  
  
The big man grumbled deep in his throat with pleasure and hauled the scientist to his feet. At the same time, Gambit protested. "Jubilee, you can't—"  
  
"Gambit. Shut up." She turned to the quivering man. "Code, or arm. Your choice."  
  
"Oh, very nice," he blustered. "Good cop, bad cop, I've seen this in the movies—" His voice broke off as she seized the front of his lab coat and slammed him backwards, hard.  
  
"Do I look like I play games?"  
  
Blue obsidian in an Asian setting bored into his eyes and he swallowed, suddenly remembering how the plastic casing around his servers had melted and run under the same hands that now pinned him to the wall. The clawed giant's grip had never left his arm, and it tightened with a raw, pitiless strength that helped him focus wonderfully.  
  
"314159."  
  
"Oh, please," sneered Jubilee. "Pi?" She released him abruptly and plucked at the pass-card hanging around his neck. The lanyard parted with a sharp claw that swept far too close to his face, and Dr. Franklin slid numbly to the ground, forgotten.  
  
Gambit kept watch on the far entrance of the lab as Bishop left his post to help the others in the short hallway. Jubilee and Creed toggled the holding cell doors and released three unsteady male prisoners, who hardly believed their incarceration was over. Bishop caught one of the shambling prisoners under the arm and steered him towards the stairway they'd originally forced their way down. As he passed, Gambit snagged the broad mutant's attention.  
  
"Tell Gambit de trut'. The petite, she woulda let Creed torture dat man?"  
  
Bishop watched their squad leader pull a shaky prisoner to his feet and replied in a low voice. "When Jubilation confronted the man who violated Dee, he laughed at her and wanted to know what she thought she could do about it."  
  
The Cajun thief waited for the other shoe to drop. Bishop finally looked him full in the eye and finished it. "She slit his throat and issued orders that his body be stripped and hung in a tree by the main road."  
  
Air whistled tunelessly as Gambit muttered the fencer's salute. "Sa-sa. The petite… she's grown teeth."  
  
"Sharp ones," agreed Bishop.  
  
"Chat later, move your ass now!" shouted Jubilee, just behind them. "Vic, grab my door prize. Let's go!"  
  
  
  
"Strike One, where are you? Jubilee? Dammit, Jubilee, answer me!" Cyclops cursed as the time ran on without a sign of the strike team. The diversionary firefight at the main gate was solidifying, and it would not be long before the humans rallied and pushed out against their attackers. The doubts any leader has over sending troops into a dangerous situation surfaced and combined with a nagging sense of unease over giving Jubilee such responsibility on her first real mission since returning to the X-Men. The sound of Jubilee's voice in his earbug brought instant relief to the pressure building around his chest.  
  
"Keep your panties on, Cyclops," Jubilee shouted. "We found some extras down there."  
  
"We're outside the fence line now," came Bishop's calm voice. "We have three passengers."  
  
Cyclops signaled the withdrawal and joined the rest of the team as they pounded towards the Blackbird. Gambit and Bishop joined them first, weaving through the trees and leading three men who appeared sadly bewildered. Bringing up the rear, Jubilee and Sabretooth kept an eye on their back trail while urging the rescued subjects onward.  
  
"I'm betting Nick Fury would like to have a talk with these guys," Jubilee began when she got within earshot. "One of 'em told me he pled guilty to drunk and disorderly in some podunk town out west of here, and woke up in this joint. S.H.I.E.L.D. still keeps tabs on justice system abuses, right?"  
  
"Your orders were to get in and get out! You should not have taken that kind of chance!" Scott hadn't planned on yelling, but Jubilee apparently had Wolverine's knack of getting to him. "What made you think you could go play hero?"  
  
He hadn't even realized Sabretooth was growling until Jubilee held up one hand to prevent him from moving. "Cyclops, the situation was under control. We got what we came for, did a good deed, and got out with our butts intact. What is the problem?"  
  
"You should have called for backup."  
  
She shoved her trademark sunglasses up on her head. "I didn't need it."  
  
She looked past him, to where Bishop stood on the gantry. "Bish, get on the horn to the Professor. Let him know what we found, and ask him to put in a call to S.H.I.E.L.D. These poor guys are gonna need some help. Vic, keep that hard drive handy; give it to Hank when we get home." Creed hefted the open rectangle of electronics that looked inconsequentially small in his big hand and grunted in acknowledgement.  
  
Jubilee looked at Scott again and took a small breath. "With your permission, sir?" she added, without a single trace of sarcasm.  
  
Cyclops hesitated.  
  
The X-men had never had a military tradition; both Scott and Xavier had wanted the team to be a family, not a regiment. Jubilee had just spent nearly a year steeped in the blood of a rebel army, where discipline and punishment were instantaneous and brutal. In either instance, he knew he was out of line, and she was deferring to him as her leader only because she chose to. In doing so, she was also reinforced his leadership in front of the rest of the team.  
  
Reluctantly, Scott's anger evaporated. In its place was something closely akin to pride with a healthy dose of respect.  
  
"Granted." He cuffed her shoulder lightly. "Good job, Jubilee." 


	5. La-La-La-La-Life Goes On

Title - Home from the Hill – Chapter 5  
  
Author - Ramos  
  
Rating – PG  
  
Disclaimer – Only borrowed, not stolen. Played with carefully. Sorta.  
  
Feedback: Please?  
  
  
  
"I'm ho-ome," carolled Jubilee from the front hall, dropping her duffle bag only marginally out of the paths of the teenagers following her through the door.  
  
"Big deal," came the hollow response from down the hall. The sounds of the television in the media room grew louder as Bobby cranked the volume, and the odd whirring noise began to make sense when the NASCAR announcer's voice became clear.  
  
"Huh. Guess you have to be gone longer than three days to be missed around here," she groused.  
  
The volume on the race went down again. "How was it?"  
  
"Not bad. Seemed smaller than I remembered," she called back. "Having the headmaster sober was of the good. What?" she asked innocently as she caught Storm's exasperated expression.  
  
The weather witch carefully stepped over Jubilee's duffel and dropped the car keys into the drawer of the hall table. "Jubilee, if you wish to have a conversation with Robert, please go in the same room with him and stop bellowing back and forth like two lovesick cows in separate fields."  
  
"Bobby, I'm going upstairs. I'm not supposed to be bellowing!" she yelled. Behind her, Dee giggled.  
  
Grinning foolishly, Bobby appeared and crossed the polished wooden flooring, oblivious to Storm's irritation. "So, what did you think?" he asked the younger woman. "Think you can handle Mutant High?"  
  
"It's great," answered Tommy, from behind her. His pale green skin darkened slightly as he realized the question had been directed at Dee, and went even darker as the girl smiled up at him. The sixteen-year-old had reached the stage where even being noticed by a female brought a blush to his cheeks, and a smile from any of the women in the mansion reduced him to stuttering.  
  
"Why don't you guys put your stuff away?" Jubilee suggested. "We can go over the course schedule after dinner."  
  
"Yes, Warleader," they echoed each other. Bobby waved at them both as they headed up the curved stairs in Storm's wake, and Dee shyly waved back.  
  
"She's a cute kid," he commented.  
  
"You didn't tell her that, did you?" Jubilee asked, alarmed.  
  
Bobby held up his hands in self-defense. "Hey, I learned my lesson the first time her big brother took a swing at me." He glanced back up the empty stairs. "Is she gonna be all right?"  
  
"I'm pretty sure she will be, though it might take some time. I had a talk with the staff psychologist there at Snow Valley. Once I convinced her that Dee really is from another planet, not a mutant, we got along pretty well. She'll give me a call if they need me, but I think Tommy being there will help a lot. And as much as I hate to say it, I think getting away from her big brother might help, too. He's just a little too protective."  
  
"Don't I know it," muttered Bobby, rubbing his jaw. "One little compliment, and the guy tried to take my head off. He fights dirty, too."  
  
"He learned from the best," Jubilee replied with a smirk, and reached out to bat at Bobby's head. He made a grab for her hand, only to get biffed from the other side. Giving up on the hands, he made a sudden lunge for her waist, digging in and getting a spate of giggles for his efforts.  
  
"Uncle, UNCLE!" cried Jubilee, bent over with laughter. Effortlessly, she slid out of his reach and grabbed up her bag, holding it out as a baffle between herself and her assailant.  
  
The grin on Bobby's face faded as he reached out and took the bag from her. "You do that on purpose, don't you?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Act like an obnoxious kid sister."  
  
She shrugged with one shoulder. "Eh. Sometimes I do it to remind the kids what it's like to be a kid. Sometimes it's just me, Bobby. I haven't really changed that much."  
  
"Huh. I could almost believe that. Then I see that scar on your face and remember that you're not just home from college. "Sorry," he added, as she self-consciously ran her fingers over the line on her cheek.  
  
"No prob. Actually, that's one of the reasons I didn't take the Professor up on his offer for cosmetic surgery. I wanted a reminder, memento maybe, of everything I went through – that Dee and her brother and all the others went through. This," and her finger deliberately drew the length of the scar, "keeps me from doubting my own sanity. Weird, huh?"  
  
"No weirder than you, firecracker," he teased lightly, slinging her bag over his shoulder and his other arm around her neck, mussing her hair and planting an affectionate kiss on the top of her head. "How's pizza sound?"  
  
"Cool. You buying?"  
  
He laughed. "Not a chance!"  
  
"Aw, c'mon, Bobby – I just spent all my cash on gas…. "  
  
  
  
**********  
  
As usual on a Friday night, Wolverine found himself wandering down to the Danger Room's observation deck to watch Jubilee and Creed pound the living hell out of each other. Most of the time it was simply an exuberant workout for the two, but at least once a month the pair's mercurial tempers flared and the two of them hashed out the pecking order in a no-holds- barred contest. The big mutant pulled few of his punches, occasionally leaving his opponent in need of stitches, and he spent a fair share of his time healing from the pyrotechnic shots he received in return. The sessions ended either with Jubilee limping out on her own two feet or the two of them laughing insanely on the floor, dabbing at split lips. On rare occasions they ended up at one of the local bars, not coming home until the early morning.  
  
Tonight the metal-lined hallway was ominously quiet. Lights came on automatically as he entered the small control room but the activity log, when he called it up, showed the latest occupants had left nearly an hour ago.  
  
A casual amble around the house let him verify the whereabouts of the rest of the household. Gambit, Bishop and Bobby were explaining the significance of "yipee-ki-yea" to Tweed while watching a classic Bruce Willis movie. In the library, Storm tapped away at a computer.  
  
With Dee and Tommy out of the house, the white-haired goddess had been spending more and more time e-mailing the teenagers and exploring the electronic horizon that held absolutely no interest for Logan. The oldest exile, Chibar, had been offered a chance to go to Snow Valley as well, where his past history as a teacher would have been an advantage. He'd turned the offer down without any explanation.  
  
Hank, he was sure, was down in the lab, while the miasma of perfume wafting from Psylocke's quarters left him with little doubt that she'd gone out for the evening.  
  
When he checked in the spacious garage, his own Harley Davidson stood silently beside Creed's vintage Indian and Jubilee's newest toy, a ninja- style racing cycle. Logan had been quietly furious that she'd bought a motorcycle at all, let alone a tricked out, barely street-legal machine capable of mind-boggling speeds. But she hadn't sought out his opinion before buying it, and she certainly didn't need his permission. She had consulted Scott, though, and the two of them had added a few after-market gadgets. She'd also sensibly invested in a jacket and leggings with reinforced elbow and knee protection to go along with her helmet.  
  
For now, though, the black leather garments hung on the wall beside her bright yellow helmet. Checking over his own ride, Logan was mystified to see a fine layer of dust on the seat. Looking back, it had been over a month since he'd taken it anywhere. Thinking further, he realized he had not left the mansion for one of his solitary rambles since he'd returned three months ago.  
  
When Jubilee had returned.  
  
Well, that made some sense, he told himself. He didn't trust Sabretooth in the same house with all the others, and most especially with Jubilee. There was no way he'd go off and leave that killer to run loose in the mansion. And while he mentally understood the changes that had taken place in both Jubilee and Creed, Wolverine's instincts nagged incessantly that he needed to stay right where he was to keep an eye on things. However…  
  
Three minutes later, the mansion was left far behind as the evening air whipped past him, blowing off both literal and figurative dust. While Logan wouldn't place any bets on whether absence made the heart grow fonder, Hardcase's beer and whiskey chasers tasted finer than he remembered, the pool hustlers were dumber, and the women prettier. By the time he called it an evening and pulled back out onto the moonlit rural highway, almost all was right with the world. Even if he was living in the same (albeit expansive) mansion with that dickweed Sabretooth.  
  
The temptation to drive past the Auger Inn, the only other roughneck bar in the county, came and went, but he ignored it.  
  
Logan had just parked his bike and was checking out the fridge for a bite to eat when he heard the sound of the jeep pull up outside. It didn't park in the garage; instead it was left in the drive, engine running, while the doors opened and shut. Moments later, the kitchen door crashed open. Creed took one look at him and grinned. Jubilee's limp form was slung casually over one broad shoulder.  
  
Adamantium claws sprouted without a second thought. "You got exactly two seconds, Creed…"  
  
"Lee's a lightweight, Runt," interrupted Sabretooth with a smirk. "Can't take more'n six shots and she starts dancin' with some bonehead biker. Thought you woulda taught her to hold her booze better'n that."  
  
One large hand went on Jubilee's no-longer-skinny behind. "'Course, there's lots of things I figured you'd a taught her that you ain't." His other talon-tipped fingers caught her by the collar of her shirt and vest, and as he leaned forward, Jubilee slid bonelessly off his shoulder. His grip kept her from thumping to the floor too hard, but she still groaned as her head hit the tiles. Creed flipped his ponytail back as he stood and looked down at the unconscious woman, the lascivious gleam in his eye a challenge to the other man.  
  
"Get outta here," Wolverine ground out.  
  
"Oh, I'm going," Sabretooth assured him. "Me an' Jube, we kinda ran off some of those bikers, so there's all kinda lonely women down at the bar waitin' for a fella to buy 'em a drink." He grinned widely. "Don't wait up."  
  
The Jeep peeled out of the drive moments later, leaving Logan standing in the kitchen with the insensate Jubilee. Thoroughly irked, he took Sabretooth's idea and grabbed a handful of collar, looped his other hand in the back of her jeans, and flipped the cold water on in the sink with his elbow.  
  
The first gasp should have warned him, but the subsequent sputtering satisfied some of the irritation he felt. He paid for it though, as she suddenly bucked in his hold, her knees at the edge of the counter pulling her head out from under the streaming faucet. A fist clouted him across one ear as she flailed for balance. Her other hand scrabbled for purchase on the edge of the sink, giving her bearing enough to lash out with one booted heel, catching his hip as he lost hold of her waistband, then her collar. He tried to backpedal, but her spinning roundhouse kick caught him in the face. He rolled with it, and congratulated himself on a good decision as another kick in virtually the same place whisked by overhead.  
  
He stayed on the floor; the force of her blow would have broken the jaw of anyone without metal plated bones. As it was, he could feel the bruise rising rapidly. Jubilee froze, wavering slightly, and frowned down at him, her adrenaline surge subsiding as fast as the water running down the drain in front of her.  
  
"Wolvie?" she slurred. "What 'rya doin'?" She hung on to the edge of the sink as her traitorous legs threatened to collapse beneath her.  
  
"Me?!" Logan growled. "You're the fool getting drunk with that overgrown kittycat. Of all the stupid crap, kid, that's gotta take the cake."  
  
Droplets flew out as she shook her head violently and ruffled her fingers through her sopping hair, roughly massaging her scalp and getting her brain functioning again. "Oh, yeah." She inspected her wet hands, then rubbed them dry on her pants leg. "Cool. It worked."  
  
Logan looked at her as he regained his feet, disbelief and anger warring for dominance on his face. "What the hell are you talking about?"  
  
"My plan worked. I'm still alive."  
  
The bruise on his cheek was fading fast, but Logan's rage was only building. "You got plastered on purpose? With him? Are you nuts?"  
  
"Nope." A lopsided grin, once more flawless after several trips to the dentist, flashed as Jubilee rolled her eyes at her best friend's protective instincts. "I had to prove something tonight."  
  
"What, that you're stupid?" he snarled.  
  
Her head came up at that, face blank, eyes suddenly cold and hard. A lifetime of experience fighting some very dangerous opponents made Logan's sense of danger flare and he stared at her, looking for signs of the girl he once knew. After a moment, she reappeared, as Jubilee relaxed and leaned against the sink. With the back of her hand, she swiped at the water dripping down her face and wiped it on her pants again.  
  
"It was a calculated risk, Wolvie. Vic's been gettin' antsy. I had to show him that I trust him, and I mean really trust him. Enough to give him an opportunity to slit my throat, and see if he did. Lucky me; he didn't."  
  
"I'm leaning more towards 'nuts' here. Grade A certifiable, kid."  
  
"Maybe." Jubilee shook her head again, gently this time, then reached for the dishtowel hanging beside the sink and used it to half-heartedly mop up some of the mess they'd made.  
  
"Wolvie, the reason you and I get along is because you always saw me - you still see me - as someone who needs to be protected. Vic, he doesn't really have a protective instinct. He's been screwed with so much that he's stuck on 'survive' mode. And the first time I did something to protect HIM, I sorta tapped into that instinct."  
  
She glanced up to see if he was listening. When Logan gave her a non- committal grunt, she took it as a sign that he was and continued. "I've been picking the brains of a couple of animal behaviorists I looked up, and they're telling me the one who protects is usually dominant. So whenever Vic tries to reassert his dominance and I kick his ass, well… it keeps me on top. The time we spent fighting the Gui'vos kinda tore him down to the basics, and if I can stay in control, then I can help him put the pieces back together in a different order. If I do it right, he might have a chance at being something besides a killer."  
  
"You're takin' a hell of a chance, Jube."  
  
"Maybe," she allowed. "But I'm in the right place at the right time to do something about it, and I'm the only person who can. I can't just walk away and let it all fall to shit." She gave a vague laugh. "Funny, that's kind of how I ended up running things back on Pagna-whatsit." She waved her hand absently, having no real idea which direction to point towards.  
  
Logan grunted again, sorting through what Jubilee had said, trying to fit it with the feral monster he'd fought with for as long as he could remember, and putting those words up against the image of Jubilee he held in his heart. Finally, he took a deep breath and let it out. "You never were one to walk away from a fight, Jube," he said grudgingly. "But I still think you're nuts."  
  
"Yeah," she replied with a grin, "but I'm still a lot of fun." She took a step towards him and made a convulsive grab at the counter as her wobbly legs went out from beneath her. "Hey, Wolvie? Could you give me a hand? I seem to be having a little trouble walking."  
  
  
  
**********  
  
  
  
"Tweed!!"  
  
Whatever the olive-skinned young man muttered must have been a swearword, since Sabretooth let out a guffaw as he heard it. Stalking into the media room, Jubilee glared at the truant who was doing his best to sink down out of sight beside Creed's chair. Across the room, Wolverine and Beast exchanged a knowing look before the latter flicked his newspaper page and studiously ignored the chewing out about to take place. Creed ignored them both, but took the opportunity to grab the Nintendo controller and defeat Tweed's character in a spectacular spray of computer generated gore on the big screen television.  
  
"You have two weeks until the GED, soldier. Are you gonna be ready?"  
  
"Uhm, I think so. Pretty sure, boss."  
  
The glare got worse. "Is pretty sure ever good enough?"  
  
He wilted under her glare. "No, warleader."  
  
"Dude, riding your ass is getting old, so I'll make you a deal. You hit the books, pass this test, and I'll introduce you to one of the great American rites of passage."  
  
A derisive snort came from Creed. "Which rite would that be, Lee? Pen and pencil set?"  
  
"No, smartass." Her stern expression melted into a smug smile. "Road trip."  
  
Logan's chair squeaked as he abruptly sat upright, dropping his motorcycle magazine, and McCoy's newspaper flopped down as he peered over the top of it. After a second, Creed threw back his head and let out a bark of laughter.  
  
Tweed looked back and forth between his diminutive leader and the big man beside him, confused. "Is this a good thing?"  
  
"You, me, and Vic. Two weeks, in a ragtop Caddilac. Sound interesting?"  
  
"Absolutely NOT," injected Hank forcefully from his table. "My dear Jubilation, you cannot possibly, seriously, consider carrying out such an ill-conceived expedition, such a, such a fool-hardy…"  
  
"You're babbling, Blue. What, wanna come along?"  
  
"Be serious, I beg you!"  
  
Tweed watched the toothy grin spread on Sabretooth's face, the casual aplomb of Jubilee, and the escalating gibbering of Hank McCoy. A speculative gleam appeared in his eyes. "Is this – road trip - as much fun as I think it is?"  
  
"Yes," answered Jubilee and Sabretooth, at the same time Beast said "No!"  
  
"Oh, fer Chrissakes," muttered Wolverine, disgusted, as he retrieved his magazine. "The three of you loose on the world…" He shook his head and went back to reading.  
  
"Gotta go study," declared Tweed, tossing the controller to Jubilee. She caught it and plopped down in his spot  
  
"You fry it, you buy it," Sabretooth warned her, before his character pounced on hers with a series of electronic kicks and exclamations that sounded like a cross between Mickey Mouse and Bruce Lee.  
  
"Five bucks says you break yours before I do," she tossed back. In the last month alone, she'd zapped three controllers to melted plastic in fits of frustration. Creed's usually just snapped in two, and always at a critical phase in the game. The local electronics store had standing orders to keep a pair of extra controllers on hand at all times.  
  
  
  
Several weeks later, Wolverine was the unlucky person who had to explain to Cyclops the significance of finding Tweed's GED letter, complete with a score of 97%, taped to the door of Xavier's office. The word 'BYE!" was scrawled in giant red letters across the top.  
  
A quick check of the bedrooms showed all three vacant. Logan lingered for a moment in Jubilee's room, taking in the sparse furnishings. The only decorations were a tattered blue Bampf doll in a glass case on her dresser, and the energy pistol in its worn leather holster hanging on the wall. Unable to get replacement power packs for it, Jubilee had found a large hook and used it to display the spent weapon like a casually mounted trophy.  
  
Logan knew it was anything but casual. After their conversation on the rooftop when she had first returned, Jubilee had declined to talk any more about her experiences on the distant planet. Occasionally she and one of the other exiles would make a vague reference about the war they'd fought, but for the first time Logan had found himself on the outside of a circle of veterans. It was an unusual situation for him.  
  
Jubilee, Vic, and Tweed drove up in a dusty and battered convertible late in the afternoon on the sixteenth day after their disappearance. Scott and Logan, without discussion, stood glowering on either side of the garage door as the three piled out of the car. Tweed's bright blue hair had been dyed a rainbow of colors and given a bushy buzz cut that made him look like the slacker's poster child. As he passed Logan, the exile flashed him the cocky smile of a twenty-year-old who'd just discovered sex. Vic gave him a nod of acknowledgement as he shouldered past with a handful of luggage.  
  
Jubilee remained at the car, leaning casually against the scratched paint. She gave Logan a quick wink before focusing on Scott. "Can I just say one thing, before you start lecturing?"  
  
"What?" Cyclops asked thinly.  
  
She took a deep breath. "One time thing, never gonna happen again, I checked in with the Professor on the brain-o-phone, nobody got arrested, and I've learned my lesson 'cause I am just friggin' beat."  
  
Scott's stern expression faded into an "I could have told you so" look. "All right, then. All yours," he directed at Logan, and entered the house. Jubilee pulled her shades down and crossed her arms defiantly as Logan moved up beside her. On closer inspection, the inside of the car was littered with fast food wrappers, empty beer cans, and hanging from the rear view mirror, a lacy black bra that was easily three times too large for Jubilee to wear. The ripe smell of too many bodies on old leather upholstery greeted his nose, and he backed away.  
  
"Have a good time?" Logan asked mildly.  
  
"Yup."  
  
"Ya know Cyke's gonna schedule all three of you for a six a.m. workout in the Danger Room, don'cha?"  
  
A groan answered him. "Do me a favor, Wolvie? Park this thing out back so I can hose it out later. I'm gonna go crash." A set of car keys landed in his hand as she leaned over to drag her miniature backpack purse out of the flotsam on the floorboards. A dark mark on her back flashed as her crop top shirt rode up, and Wolverine put a hand out to stop her movement.  
  
"What's that?"  
  
She stiffened, then relaxed but let him push her shirt hem up a few inches. "It's a tattoo."  
  
Logan inspected the Chinese character, inked in a deep dark indigo, and surrounded by slightly reddened skin against her normal pale honey-colored back. It looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place it.  
  
"What's it mean?"  
  
"Chi," she replied. "It means life-force, or energy."  
  
"Huh. Why'd you get a tattoo?"  
  
"Well… did you know Vic can make a whole lot of sense when you've had way too much to drink?"  
  
"He got you plastered and talked you into a 'tat," Logan stated with an experienced grin.  
  
"Kinda sorta."  
  
Whatever smart remark he'd been about to say disappeared as he realized the ridge under his thumb was not Jubilee's bra strap. He slid the hem up another couple of inches and revealed a scar longer than his finger and almost as wide. He traced it with a fingertip and felt Jubilee supress a shiver.  
  
"What happened here?" he asked gruffly.  
  
"Someone stabbed me in the back. I fried his face, and Vic ripped his head off." She shrugged, and while her words were even and unemotional, Logan knew she was describing the events literally. "Bishop slapped a piece of goshi - that's a kind of leaf that can be used to waterproof stuff - and they got me to a healer before my lung collapsed any more."  
  
Jubilee straightened up slowly, moving so he could no longer see the scar. "The healers in my army were pretty good. They could make a body heal itself a lot faster than it does by itself, as long as that body has the energy for it, and apparently I have a lot of energy."  
  
She slung the little backpack over her shoulder. "Anyway, do you mind? Parking the car for me?" she reminded him.  
  
"No," he managed. "No problem, darlin'."  
  
Her hand squeezed his wrist faintly in gratitude. "Thanks Wolvie."  
  
He watched her walk off, the dark edges of the tattoo peeking from beneath the hem of her shirt with every stride, until she disappeared into the house.  
  
  
  
*********  
  
Perched on the stone railing around the terrace, Jubilee let her leg swing freely, drumming her heel against the base of the railing and tried not to be obvious as she spied on Chibar. The older man was carefully trimming the rosebushes and other blooming flowers in the backyard garden, following Ororo's instructions with obsessive care as he moved about in the waning daylight.  
  
The kitchen door clicked loudly and a familiar tread let her know Bishop was behind her. Large hands dropped onto her shoulders, and she groaned appreciatively as his thumbs began to dig into the muscles on her back.  
  
"I'd keep you around just for your backrubs, Bish," she commented lightly, but her expression quickly slid back to the pensive frown she'd been wearing earlier. Tugging at one of his hands, she pulled him down to sit beside her. He chose to straddle the stone barrier, one large thigh behind her hips. Jubilee leaned into his chest for a moment, then straightened her spine with a sigh, as though deliberately removing herself from any comfort he might offer.  
  
"He's still out here?" Bishop finally asked quietly.  
  
"Since six this morning," Jubilee replied. "His room looks like a monk lives there, and he's only eating about one meal a day now."  
  
"You cannot save everyone, Jubilee."  
  
"You think I don't know that?" she said bitterly, then bit her lip and put a hand on his arm in apology for the sharpness of her tone. "Gotta try, though."  
  
"I could believe no less of you. You would not be who you are if you didn't."  
  
His compliment coaxed a half-smile from her, and she brushed his dark cheek with her palm.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"Always," he rumbled, catching her hand with his own. He pressed his lips against her fingers before shifting his grip to assist her slide down to the ground. He watched her head across the lawn to the older man, where she initiated a conversation with expressive body language, and said something that brought a smile to the older man's face. Within minutes, she was listening as her oldest veteran pointed out a defect in the bush he was currently working on, and helped him hold the spray of greenery as he continued his maintenance.  
  
"If you have something to say, Wolverine, then say it and stop glowering at me," Bishop commented quietly. He pulled his other leg over the wall and turned to face where Logan stood in the doorway to the house.  
  
"What's with you and the kid?" Logan demanded bluntly.  
  
"We're friends," Bishop returned impassively.  
  
"Looked like more from where I was standing."  
  
"We were once... more. And less." Bishop was not impressed by the warning growl. "You have been in combat. You know what it's like, to reach a point where you are desperate to remember that you are capable of something other than death, than killing."  
  
No reply came, and Bishop continued, choosing his words with care. "We used each other. Yet our friendship remained. Does your objection center over the fact that she chose me, or that she was intimate with anyone?"  
  
No verbal answer came, but Logan's jaw muscles were clenched in powerless rage. Bishop stood and turned to face him. "You have a choice, Logan. Accept Jubilee for who she is and who she will be, or continue to cling to that which she once was. But remember – that little girl no longer exists, and clinging to ghosts has never given you or anyone a shred of comfort."  
  
Turning on his heel, he headed for the kitchen door and left Logan stewing on the terrace. At the last moment, he paused and called over his shoulder, his voice holding just a hint of pain.  
  
"One last thing. The nights I shared with her … the only time she ever made a sound was when she called your name." 


	6. At Work & Play & More Work

Title - Home from the Hill – Chapter 6  
  
Author - Ramos  
  
Rating – PG  
  
Disclaimer – MOST of these characters are the Property of Marvel Comics. No profit is made from their use.  
  
Feedback: Craved like bad drugs.  
  
  
  
**********  
  
Long legs and long red hair greeted Logan as he entered the kitchen. His focus had been on the coffeepot, but attractive women making coffee in the bright early hours of the day could take the surly edge off any man, and Logan was no exception.  
  
"Stealin' some coffee, Jeannie?" he teased. "Ya oughta keep more supplies down at the boathouse."  
  
"Returning it, actually," she replied, indicating the plastic bags on the counter. "Scott had an early conference call with Charles and Sean, so I ran to the market this morning."  
  
The overhead cabinet opened itself obligingly as she approached it with both hands full of items to be put away. "I picked up a little bit of everything; I'm not sure who's turn it was to do the shopping this week, but it looks like they're falling down on the job." Neither of them remarked at the fact she was levitating several feet off the ground, items on the top shelf floating around her like satellite moons as she rearranged the contents to her liking. "I almost bought some bubblegum for Jubilee, but at the last moment I couldn't remember what flavor she liked."  
  
"She don't chew gum any more," Logan commented over the rim of his cup. "Says going without for so long got her over the habit."  
  
"Really? I hadn't noticed. Some days, I can't tell that she's grown up at all," Jean said lightly. "I distinctly heard Bobby give a fair imitation of Banshee yesterday when he saw what Jubilee did to his car."  
  
"Sometimes," he allowed wryly. Bobby had spent hours searching for the tires to his car. The last one had finally been found floating in the lake. "Somedays, though… " His words trailed off, unwilling to complete the thought aloud.  
  
Jean made a non-committal 'hmmm' sound from inside the pantry. As a woman, more than a telepath, she was aware of the emotional dynamics of her teammates. Logan had been dubious when Jubilee and Scott had discussed her returning to the team after her last year college, even as a junior member on a probationary status. He had also not been completely in favor of Cyclops' decision when she'd been so swiftly admitted to full X-man status after her return from the Shi'ar planet. And two days ago, he'd been incensed to hear Jubilee and Creed were leaving on an undercover mission, just the two of them. "Perhaps Jubilee has merely fulfilled her potential earlier that anticipated. A trial by fire is notorious for doing just that."  
  
"She's got plenty of time to do any fulfillin', Jeannie. She's just a kid."  
  
"She's twenty-two," corrected Jean mildly. "She's legally an adult. She's also an alpha mutant and a full member of the X-men. She's no longer a child, Logan."  
  
"I know that in my head, Jeannie. It's my gut that needs convincing." He shifted uncomfortably. "Maybe I'm just having trouble with the fact that Jube's all grown up, and she don't need me any more. She use ta look up to me, and now the old man's obsolete."  
  
"You're not obsolete, Wolvie," came a third voice, and they both turned to see Jubilee standing in the doorway. How he hadn't heard her approach, he could not have said. Looking like a model in a motorcycle ad, she wore leather pants, a torn black tee-shirt with rolled up sleeves, and combat boots. A liberal application of gel slicked her hair back in a glassy wet look. The two women exchanged a significant look; if a psychic conversation took place it was over swiftly.  
  
~Listen to her,~ was the last silent comment from Jean to Logan as she swiftly left the kitchen to the two of them.  
  
Unusually tentative, Jubilee approached the counter and pulled a mug from the tree beside the coffee pot. Logan filled it for her, and freshened his own. He wasn't entirely sure why he was reluctant to speak first, but Jubilee beat him to it.  
  
"I know I've been busy lately, but I figured everything was cool. I mean, you haven't been pulling Vic's chain, so I thought you were okay with things."  
  
"It ain't about him, Jube."  
  
Jubilee crossed her arms and leaned against the counter, for a moment resembling the teenager she once was. Then her face lifted, turning towards him, and the long scar on her face was pale against the slight flush of her cheek.  
  
"Maybe you should just tell me, Wolvie."  
  
Rubbing the back of his neck didn't make the words come any easier. "I'm just not sure who you are anymore, darlin'. You went off to college, an' then you disappeared. Now you're all grown up."  
  
"You're saying you don't know how to deal with me as an adult."  
  
"Yeah. I guess that's it."  
  
"Logan, we haven't spent more than an afternoon in each other's company since I left Snow Valley, so I know I'm a little different than you remember, but I still need you. You're my best friend in the whole world."  
  
"This world, maybe," he said gruffly. "But you've got Bishop, too."  
  
Logan belatedly remembered Jubilee's Delta level psychic ability and abruptly stifled his impressions of the scene on the back terrace, but it was too late.  
  
"Me and Bishop… oh." She took a careful sip of the strong, black brew. "I didn't think you knew about that," she said at last. "Bish and I.. we're not involved, romantically. We're friends. What we did for each other when things were really bad, well… that was just part of it."  
  
"I don't need to hear this, Jube."  
  
"Yes, you do. All cards on the table here." She took a deep breath. "I promised myself I'd say this to you, back when things were really bad and I thought for sure I'd never see you again. I know you hate talking about stuff like this, and frankly I don't have time for it right now, so I'm just gonna talk, and you can just listen."  
  
She looked at him from the corner of her eye and caught his nod.  
  
"Okay. I am not - at this particular moment - in love with you."  
  
Logan shot her a startled look, but she didn't let him interrupt. "I have been, off and on, since I was about sixteen years old. As far as I'm concerned, you're the finest man I've ever known. My first choice for a friend or a lover."  
  
When she looked over at him, her eyes were a clear, deep blue, while a melancholy fondness lifted the corners of her mouth. "I imagine it's kinda what you feel for Jean – loving someone, and knowing they love you back, but not in the way you want them to. 'Course, you've got that whole Lancelot an' Guinevere thing going on, and that's one bit I don't have to deal with. Because I'm not going to go through life hanging on to that one hope and let all the other possibilities slip through my fingers.  
  
"I just wanted you to know this so there are no misunderstandings. I'm not putting any time lines or deadlines or any other kinda lines out here, and you don't have to say anything, or feel obligated, because it doesn't really matter. I just wanted you to know."  
  
Abruptly she looked around, as though she'd heard something he had not, and snagged another mug from the tree. Oversized, it was nauseatingly cute, with a parade of Persian kittens around it. "Gotta go," she announced, filling the cup quickly. "See ya later." A casual sidestep avoided the hand Logan reached out to her as she left him standing in the kitchen, stunned.  
  
"Here," Jubilee said gruffly, pushing the kitten mug into Creed's hands as she lead the way out to the garage. "Everything ready?" He'd been lurking right outside the kitchen door.  
  
"Yeah," Creed responded. He took a large swallow and followed behind Jubilee as she slammed her way through the door separating the garage and the hallway to the kitchen. "Tell me sumthin," he asked.  
  
"What?" she answered shortly.  
  
"How come you don't clink when you walk?" A steely blue glare only increased his humor. "'Cause I swear you gotta have some serious brass balls."  
  
"Vic," she growled. "Don't start."  
  
"I ain't seen the runt that tongue-tied since the time this stripper in Haung Bey pulled a snake outta…"  
  
"NO DETAILS," warned Jubilee, checking over her motorcycle. "I don't need any more disturbing images from you, 'kay?"  
  
"I was gonna say her wig," he protested innocently.  
  
"Sure you were," she replied sarcastically, placing her coffee cup on the wooden shelf beside her jacket and helmet. Closing her eyes briefly, she reached out and found Xavier's mental presence, just as she'd detected Creed when he'd been eavesdropping.  
  
~A few more minutes, Jubilee. Hank had a few last minute adjustments to make.~  
  
~You mean he's fussing,~ she replied, projecting her affectionate exasperation. ~Vic and I are waiting in the garage.~  
  
"We've got a couple of minutes," she told Creed aloud as she strapped her jacket to the seat of her motorcycle and hung her helmet on the hook beside the saddle. The bright yellow faring had had several death skull decals added, and she peeled one up and repositioned it. "Hank's still playing with the equipment."  
  
A slurp answered her. "So what's the plan?"  
  
"Two days to Sturgis, then at least a week of intel gathering. You know that. And we will be sleeping in that motel room, Vic. You wanna get lucky, do it on your own time."  
  
"I ain't playing with Baldie's toys, Jube," he told, ignoring her comment on where he'd sleep. "Told you that already."  
  
"Don't worry, I'll handle the Cerebro unit. You're not even remotely psychic; all you could use it for is a chew toy."  
  
"An' all you want me to do is listen to people?" he queried, still skeptical.  
  
"The Professor wants to know the general level of anti-mutant hostility in different levels of society. He can roll around all the board rooms and tea rooms in the world, but he can't get near people with, shall we say, less rarified airs about them."  
  
"So we're gonna hang out at the biggest biker convention in the world with our thumbs up our asses, listenin' to people bitch?"  
  
"Pretty much," Jubilee agreed with a grin.  
  
"Whatever turns ya on," he said with a shrug. "Speakin' of things that turn ya on, when're you gonna jump the runt and get it out of your system?"  
  
Closing her eyes on Victor's smirk and slowly counting to ten, Jubilee willed the blush in her cheeks to go away. "I am not going to jump Logan," she replied. "Not that it's any of your business. I just wanted to quit dancing around the truth. If what Gambit and Rogue have put each other through for - what, six years now? - is any indication of what 'romance' is, then I pass."  
  
"Yeah? Well, my offer still stands. He don't want ya, then I'll take ya."  
  
One fine black eyebrow arched. "Vic, while I will admit to a certain amount of curiosity… never gonna happen."  
  
He shrugged. "Can't blame a guy for tryin.'"  
  
A flick of her finger tossed a small plasmoid into his coffee cup.  
  
"SHIT!" Experienced reflexes had the cup sailing out the garage, tumbling through the air and pouring out the last inches of coffee in a brown arc before the tiny bomb detonated, spraying the grass and drive with droplets. Unscathed, the cup landed in the grass and bounced.  
  
"Sonoavabitch," he said flatly.  
  
Hank appeared in the garage at that moment, forestalling any further escalation of hostilities, with the missing equipment for their mission tucked under one furry arm. Disguised as a laptop, its battered case disguised a portable Cerebro unit with all the electronic gee-whiz that could possibly be packed into the chassis.  
  
"I've made just a few modifications, Jubilee. The headset has been configured to resemble the average stereo headphones. The battery pack is new; it should last approximately fifteen percent longer…" His voice trailed off as Jubilee deftly appropriated the device.  
  
"Don't worry, Hank," she assured him as she shoved it into the leather saddlebag strapped to her motorcycle. "I'll be careful, I'll charge it, I'll treat it like a newborn." She emphasized her words with a hearty slap on the bag. "See ya in two weeks, Blue."  
  
Creed threw one long leg over his ancient machine and rolled it off its kickstand. Jubilee followed suit, and the engines roared as one, drowning out McCoy's protests. Together they revved the throttles, the throaty grumbles calling savagely to each other like lions in the savanna. A wild grimace of enjoyment creased Victor's face.  
  
"Hey, Jube! That motel room ya booked in Sturgis – that got one bed or two?"  
  
"Give it a rest, Vic!" she shouted. Reaching in the pocket of her leather vest, she pulled out a pair of shades. Rather than her usual pink Ray- Bans, they were steel rimmed, Terminator style glasses that turned her face into a tough mask.  
  
"Let's ride."  
  
  
  
**********  
  
The football lying on the manicured grass of Xavier's expansive front lawn had undergone many trials in its short life: it had been frozen, flash- fried, levitated, and hit by concussive beams. Sometimes all in the same game. But the faded leather ovoid currently appeared small and insignificant as Victor Creed's long, taloned fingers wrapped around it. Crouched opposite him, Robert Drake was doing his best to appear casual and unconcerned in the face of his predatory glare. Only the faint wisp of vapor coming off his fingers betrayed his elevated tension.  
  
"Hike!" Creed shouted abruptly, dropping back rapidly.  
  
As he'd been instructed, Tweed ran a short pattern around Bishop; Vic stopped abruptly and threw the ball, ignoring the minor impact as Bobby tackled his waist. Jubilee darted from one side of Rogue to the other, attempting to distract the southern belle. It didn't work. Diving, she bypassed her opponent and rose several feet off the ground to intercept the pass.  
  
"HEY!! No powers!" shrieked Jubilee. "Tweed, nail her!!"  
  
Confused, the young man glanced up the field before taking off in pursuit of Rogue. He gave it a valiant effort, but couldn't catch up. Crossing the sweatshirts that outlined the goal line, Rogue spiked the ball with a triumphant "Hah!"  
  
Creed swore and slowed his shambling jog to a walk, then stopped and glanced down. "You wanna let go now, Popsicle?"  
  
Somewhat abashed, Bobby muttered something and loosened his hold around Creed's waist. Bishop chuckled and gave Rogue a high-five slap as she tossed the ball to Jubilee.  
  
"Bish, you traitor! You're on our side. And there's no way that counted, Rogue," Jubilee protested loudly. "We said no powers."  
  
"Ah jumped!" she insisted.  
  
"My hairy ass you did," Creed rumbled.  
  
"What about your ass?" Rogue asked in a flirty tone. Creed raised an eyebrow at her, but grinned back at her. "Ya ain't gettin' out of it that easy, frail."  
  
"Wolvie! Get over here! We need an umpire."  
  
"Not on your tintype, kid," Logan replied from his comfortable spot on the stone steps. He took several deep puffs on his newly-lit cigar and blew out the smoke, relishing the cool morning and rare moment of leisure. Recently missions had taken a dramatic increase, and, as a whole, the X-men had not had the time to even catch their breath. "Not even on a bet."  
  
"What bet?" asked Cyclops, swinging the door shut behind him and descending the stairs beside Logan. Dressed in sweatpants and t-shirt, running shoes on his feet, he was obviously headed out for a jog.  
  
"No bet. They think I'm gonna tell Rogue she cheated," Logan told him. "They got another think coming."  
  
"Uh-huh," responded Scott with understanding as he adjusted the elasticized 'nerd' band that held his red glasses on while he jogged or performed other strenuous activities. He began to move and stretch as he watched the eclectic assortment of people line up on the lawn again.  
  
Scott and Logan listened as Jubilee argued with Bobby, with Rogue and Creed adding their opinions. Finally Jubilee demanded a girls versus guys game, with Bishop filling out the roster for the women to make it three against three.  
  
Lacking a coin among them, Jubilee and Bobby faced off with a quick rock- paper-scissors that left the Iceman in possession of the ball. Bobby won –paper covers rock - and pulled Tweed and Sabretooth into a huddle.  
  
On the sidelines, Cyclops paused in his stretch to watch the action intensely.  
  
"Okay, guys, here's the plan," Bobby started. "Tweed, I want you to guard Jube. Vic, you're gonna fake Rogue out, but get some space between you…"  
  
"You tryin' to tell me what to do, little man?" rumbled Sabretooth warningly. Tweed, finely attuned to Vic's volatile moods, moved back a step.  
  
"Whoa," protested Bobby mildly. "I'm just asking you to catch a ball. Unless you think Stick Boy here can catch it?"  
  
"Hey!" Tweed complained.  
  
"The way you throw?" scoffed Vic. "I got a better idea." His shaggy head bent closer to the others.  
  
"Well. I will be damned," breathed Scott reverently.  
  
"What?" Logan asked, puzzled.  
  
Scott nodded to the three men standing together, discussing strategy. "Sabretooth is standing on our yard, taking orders from the Iceman."  
  
Logan caught the wink Jubilee directed towards Cyclops, and considered the two groups of players. "How much did you just lose?"  
  
Cyclops snorted. "A hundred bucks."  
  
Minutes later, the football left Bobby's hand in a wobbly spiral and landed in Creed's hands. Jubilee made the fatal mistake of worrying more about him and discounted Tweed's end run around her. Rogue brought the big man down, but not before he shuttled a short pass to Tweed; once down, he kept the untouchable woman on the ground by sitting on her.  
  
Jubilee let out a howl and took off after Tweed, but he was almost as tall as Bobby with equally long legs, and she never had a chance to catch him. Panting, Jubilee joined him in the end zone, where he made a gesture to hand her the ball before abruptly pulling it out of her reach and spiking it to the grass.  
  
"Smartass!" she declared, scooping up the ball.  
  
Lined up once more, Jubilee eyed Bobby across the grass before calling the hike and dropping back. She feinted left and faked a handoff to Bishop.  
  
"Watch those hands, boy!" yelled Rogue, as Tweed grabbed her from behind. At the same time, Bishop and Bobby met in a bone-crunching grapple.  
  
"Oh, shit!" Jubilee exclaimed as Vic, not fooled by the fake, closed in on her. She darted to one side, counting on her faster speed to get her past the big man. Unfortunately, she was one step away from being out of his reach, and he snagged her shoulder just enough to make her break stride. Not bothering to tackle her, he wrapped one long arm around her and heaved her right off the ground and onto his shoulder, ball and all.  
  
"Goddamn it, Vic! Put me down!" she demanded, her voice oddly punctuated as he broke into a jog, jouncing her heavily on every step. "VI-I-I-I- C!!!"  
  
"Ya want down? Here ya go!" he announced, dropping her unceremoniously on her butt behind the goal line.  
  
Furious, Jubilee let out a wordless scream and pounded both fists and feet on the grass while laughter rang out in the crisp October air. "You two can just shut up!" she told Logan and Scott, both chuckling helplessly from their vantage point on the stairs.  
  
"Hey! You losers gonna watch or you gonna play?" challenged Vic.  
  
Scott and Logan exchanged a look and a shrug, and got to their feet.  
  
"Jube! You want the runt or the one-eyed sissy boy?!"  
  
"I'll take Wolvie," she declared, getting up off the grass. "I'm tired of getting my ass kicked here."  
  
Rogue was assigned full-time guard duties over Creed, and with Jubilee and Wolverine able to bring their old partnership dynamics into play, her team managed to bring the score up from humiliating to merely disgraceful by the time Jean came out to discover what had happened to her husband and announce that lunch was getting cold. She was greeted by the sight of eight exhausted, sweaty, grass-stain-smeared individuals in a dog pile, all struggling after one football.  
  
"All right, children," she chided them, bringing the ball winging across the grass to land gently at her feet. "I said it's time for lunch."  
  
Laughing and groaning weakly, they began to sort themselves out. Logan, near the bottom, grunted as someone found his kidney with their elbow. "You okay, Wolvie?" inquired Jubilee, from somewhere on top of him.  
  
"I'm fine, darlin'."  
  
"Hang on a sec," she muttered, rolling out from under Cyclops' legs. For the briefest of moments, her chest brushed his, her sweaty face brushing his chin as she pushed against the ground by his head.  
  
Clambering to her feet, Jubilee offered him her hand and pulled him upright. She had grass in her hair, a fat lip, and a sparkle in her eye. And yet, Logan realized suddenly, she was immensely beautiful. Her hand lingered around his wrist and his around hers; then Bobby chose that moment to toss her retrieved sweatshirt at her. She grabbed it out of the air and used it to dry her face off, murmuring a breathless "thanks" as she joined the others headed for the house.  
  
Logan swiped at the faint moisture on his chin, trying his best to clamp down on the traitorous, unsettling emotions. A sudden whiff of womanly scent caught his attention, and he inhaled again the trace of Jubilee caught on the back of his hand. Slightly floral, slightly spicy, and fully rounded, it held the nuances of a woman who'd been working hard. Nowhere in the olfactory spectrum available to him did even a hint of her childish scent remained.  
  
Stunned, he tried once more to isolate a vestige of Jubilee's childhood signature, but couldn't. It had changed, still recognizable as his old partner, but now undeniably a woman's scent.  
  
Ahead of him, Jean fended off her husband, who seemed intent on giving her a sweaty, dirty bear hug. On the steps, Jubilee, Rogue, and the other players jockeyed to be the first in the door, shoving good-naturedly at each other. Shorter than every other X-man, Jubilee still held her own, pushing her way among the crowd.  
  
His footsteps faltered as he reached the edge of the lawn, taking a moment to breathe in the clean autumn air and appreciate the sunlight and, for now, peaceful day. He lifted his shirt and scrubbed the last of Jubilee's perspiration off his chin, but the friction merely activated the trace scent. Giving in, he inhaled it deliberately and let replay the brief memory of her chest brushing against his. It had been only a brief touch, but in that moment he had been aware of her as he had never before. The concept of her femininity had instantly changed from academic recognition to male appreciation.  
  
"Hey!" shouted a voice from the house; Jubilee's head poked out of the door, an exasperated scowl on her face. "Chow's on! You eating with us or not?"  
  
"Yeah," he replied. "I'll be right there."  
  
  
  
*********  
  
~Jubilee.~ Xavier's mental voice, gentle as it was, still made Jubilee wince as it echoed in her aching head.  
  
~Yo,~ she replied, masking the irritation she felt as she tossed the ruined uniform shirt in the trash. A three-day mission followed by a marathon debriefing with Cyclops had ended only an hour ago. The ibuprofen hadn't had a chance to kick in yet, and her hair was still dripping after her well- deserved hot shower.  
  
~When you have a moment, please come to my office.~  
  
~Sure,~ she replied. ~Gimme a few minutes.~  
  
The trousers were still salvageable, so draped them over her hamper and made a mental note to take a pretreater to the bloodstains before laundering them. Rubbing her towel gently over her wet locks and sore head, she dragged open her drawers to find something clean to wear downstairs.  
  
Swinging past the medical bay first, Hank assured her Psylocke was sleeping, her broken arm set and the lacerations stitched. "She'll be fine, Jubilee," Hank insisted. "As for that hard head of yours, if you find the over-the-counter drugs insufficient, I'll find you something stronger." His concerned eyes peered into hers. "How you arranged to escape a concussion, I cannot comprehend."  
  
"You know me, Blue," she replied as she rapped her knuckles – gently – on her skull. "Solid rock."  
  
"Hmmm. A pervasive if less than admirable trait amongst the X-men."  
  
"You ever think it might just be part of the 'x' gene?" she asked, raising one eyebrow.  
  
Hank frowned at her over the top of his glasses. "That's not funny."  
  
"Never said it was," she replied with chuckle, waving as she headed for the elevator.  
  
Outside Xavier's office, she paused long enough to gather her exhausted resources together long enough to scan for psychic signatures behind the door. Sensing Cyclops and Storm as well as Xavier, she raised one hand and knocked quietly.  
  
Scott opened the door, and asked her to come in and have a seat. She chose one of the large, wing-backed, overstuffed chairs facing Xavier's desk and collapsed with a marked lack of grace.  
  
"What's up? Something wrong with the Briefing Room?"  
  
"No, Jubilee, everything's fine. This has no bearing on the mission you and Betsy completed."  
  
"Umm. Good," she commented, snuggling into the soft embrace of the leather.  
  
Xavier gave her a concerned look. "You look very tired, Jubilee."  
  
"Hey, nothing a six pack and sixteen hours of sleep can't cure."  
  
"This can wait until later, if you'd rather," began Scott, but Jubilee cut him off with a gesture.  
  
"Nah, I'm already here. Might as well get it over with."  
  
"There's something we wished to discuss with you," Xavier began.  
  
"Ohh-kay," she replied. "What did Vic do now?"  
  
"Nothing," chuckled Scott. "He's actually behaving himself lately. We just wanted to let you know that we're going to realign the teams. Storm is leaving us."  
  
"Oh my God!" Jubilee abruptly sat upright. "No way!"  
  
Storm smiled patiently at the reaction. "Yes, Jubilee. I've been thinking about this for a long time. My heart is no longer in our work, and the burden of leadership has become wearisome. I'm going to Massachusetts, to teach at the Academy. The student body there is expanding, and they need experienced teachers more than ever."  
  
"Bobby will be taking over as leader of the Gold team," Scott supplied. I asked him yesterday, and he agreed."  
  
Jubilee nodded thoughtfully. "Drake's a good choice. Does Rogue know yet?"  
  
"Rogue is going to Snow Valley as well," Storm supplied quietly.  
  
"Ah," Jubilee said, which said it all. The tempestuous relationship between the Cajun thief and his lady had recently soured yet again, and the bitter words between them had been worse than ever before. This time, there had been little hope of reconciliation, and Rogue leaving the mansion seemed to confirm it.  
  
"I've been in contact with Sean," Cyclops continued. "He's got a candidate from Scotland who sounds very promising for recruiting. I'm flying out in the next few days to talk to him."  
  
"Cool. So which team am I gonna be on?"  
  
"Actually, that's what we wanted to discuss." Scott looked at Xavier again, and the older man rearranged some papers on his desk as he picked up the conversation.  
  
"You've been on over three dozen missions in this last six months, Jubilee. Your performance has been extraordinary, far beyond even our highest expectations. Not only in the field, but in gathering and interpretation of intelligence reports… Scott told me it was your idea to use the portable Cerebro unit to assess anti-mutant hostility first-hand, outside of media reports. It was an excellent suggestion. Frankly, it's something I wish I'd thought of years ago."  
  
Jubilee rubbed at the lump on the side of her head. "All right, you two are making me nervous. Just cut to the chase."  
  
Scott opened his mouth, then decided on another approach. "Jubilee, what did they call your army, on Pagnotalia?"  
  
"Hearth," she corrected. "That was what the Shi'ar named the planet. The natives called it Hearth. As in, hearth and home, ya know?"  
  
"And what did they call you, on Hearth?" he pressed.  
  
She regarded him steadily, then answered. "Legion. They called us Lee's Legion."  
  
Xavier and Scott exchanged a look, and Xavier nodded. "Legion. How appropriate."  
  
Scott leaned on the edge of Xavier's desk, his arms crossed. "Jubilee, we want to form a third team of the X-men, and we want you to lead it. Bishop and Gambit will report to you, and Sabretooth, if he's willing. Eventually we'll add Tweed when you feel he's ready. He may not be a mutant, but he's taken to this kind of work, and he's got the knack for hardware. Frankly, I'd rather have him with us than let S.H.I.E.L.D. or a similar group get hold of him. We'll add more members to your team as they're recruited."  
  
Only the faint drumming of Xavier's right thumb on the desktop gave away his tension, but it was enough. "What happened?" Jubilee asked quietly. "You're expanding the teams, but if you're allowing two Alpha mutants to go to the school, you're really worried, and not about some immediate threat."  
  
Cyclops stiffened, then released his tension in a rush of breath. "It hasn't hit the news media yet, but the Yugoslav Republic just voted to dissolve into three separate nations. Apparently, they've been planning this for some time; the Republic of Croatia and the Slavic Union have both voted in a manifesto and a constitution. It includes strict provisions for Muslims, Christians, sexual deviants…"  
  
"and mutants," Jubilee finished for him.  
  
He nodded. "X-Factor's hitting the air in the next hour to evacuate any known mutants who wish to leave. We're hoping to get them out before any rioting starts, but it doesn't look good."  
  
"I don't want to mislead you, Jubilee," Xavier said in a grave voice. "If many of the former Soviet republics follow suit, we could very soon see a polarization of society, where what you are is more relevant than who you are. That kind of stratification could quickly carry over into other countries, especially in the Middle East. Mutant free zones and mutant ghettos are sure to follow. If Israel and her surrounding countries are any indication of the amount of friction hard core segregation can cause… this could be the moment in history we can point to and say 'this is when it all began.'"  
  
"And I don't want to mislead you, Professor," Jubilee retorted. She realized that fatigue was making her reckless, but no one had ever accused her of being overly discreet. "I was a history major, remember? The Jewish ghettos at the beginning of the Second World War are just another example. Let's not forget the Hutus and Tutsis. If mutants are herded into prison camps and not allowed the freedom of movement to leave a country where they're mistreated… it's going to get very ugly. We - I will not allow a mutant Auschwitz to occur. Do you understand that?"  
  
Faded grey eyes met intense blue ones, and Xavier opened his mind to Jubilee. For an instant their wills clashed before the two psyches settled and met in a neutral middle ground. Here, Xavier was a towering obelisk of power, the strength of his talent a roiling, oppressive blanket. Scott, left out of the confrontation, still felt the hair on his arms rise with the energy swirling through the room.  
  
~Cyclops asked you this once. Now I ask you again. Do you still believe, Jubilation Lee? Do you still believe X-men do not kill?~  
  
Standing in the wind of Xavier's power, Jubilee was a small but solid block, unmoving in the gale. Stubbornness had ever been the hallmark of her personality, and it had only grown as she'd matured. ~Yes. I believe that X-men should not kill. Neither should humans. I will do all I can to prevent bloodshed, Professor. But I will not allow another war where one class of a people slaughter another class of people because they can.~  
  
A memory came out of Jubilee's mind, one carefully buried, of she and her warriors picking their way through a village that had been utterly destroyed by the enemy. Every living thing, from the oldest men to a basket of week-old freyyas, a domesticated lizard kept as a pet and filling the same niche as the common house cat, had been deliberately killed and left lying in the streets. The carnage physically revolted her; inside, a small portion of her soul hardened to a diamond edge.  
  
~I will not let this happen to mutants,~ she insisted. ~I won't allow it.~  
  
Endless time passed on the psychic plane as Xavier probed at Jubilee's resolve and determination. Eventually, he withdrew, his aura folding itself down into his body like wings settling on an eagle's back. He gazed at his youngest X-man, and she met his eyes steadily.  
  
"I understand," Xavier admitted aloud. "Hopefully, that will never happen. If fate ever takes us in that direction… I pray we will part as friends."  
  
"Thank you," Jubilee said quietly. "I accept your offer. And I'll let you know if I ever feel we need to talk about this again."  
  
"Agreed."  
  
Jubilee nodded and turned to Cyclops. "Are you expecting Bobby and me to go to Ireland with you to talk to this guy?"  
  
With a psychic wife, Cyclops had some idea of what might have passed between Xavier and Jubilee, and decided to leave it alone. "Yes. Day after tomorrow, if things work out."  
  
"You're the boss," she tossed off. Xavier smiled at her choice of words. "I guess I'd better pack." She staggered slightly as she regained her feet.  
  
"Get some rest, Jubilee. We can discuss the details of your new position later."  
  
"Thanks," she replied. As an afterthought, she held out her hand to Scott. He took it in his and gave it a firm shake. Oddly formal, it seemed to cement the new status between them.  
  
Outside Xavier's office, Jubilee had taken only a few steps towards the stairs and back towards her room when Creed stomped past her without a word and disappeared out the front door. The resounding slam made her wince.  
  
She gave the stairs a longing glance and a theatrical sigh before she followed in his wake. When she found him sitting on the steps, furiously lighting a cigar, she plopped down beside him unceremoniously and burrowed against his side to keep out of the keen autumn breeze. They sat silently for some time, Vic apparently doing his best to ignore her.  
  
"So," she said finally. "You gonna talk to me or I gotta twist your ears to make you say uncle?"  
  
Creed growled half-heartedly. "I gotta get out of here. I can't turn around in this place without runnin' into somebody."  
  
"Okay," she agreed, tucking her fingers under her armpits.  
  
"Okay?" he growled back. "Ain't ya gonna try and talk me out of leaving? Try to give me some sob story about us being a family?"  
  
"Vic, I'm so damned tired right now I couldn't work up the effort to spit. If you want to go back to being a globe-trotting psychopath, I'm not gonna stop you." She burrowed against his side again, resting her head against his bicep, and apparently dismissed their entire conversation.  
  
Finally one massive shoulder shrugged. "Old life seems kinda dull."  
  
Jubilee let him sit and stew for another minute. "How far you going?" she asked. He gave her a look. "'Cause, ya know, I could still use your help now and then."  
  
"Yer fulla shit, Lee."  
  
"No, I'm not, Vic. You know I've never lied to you." Her offhand tone sobered as she looked out over the yard where they'd played football just a few weeks ago. "I just talked to the Professor. Cyke an' him are talking about doing some more recruiting."  
  
A low, half-hearted growl rumbled in his chest. "Last thing this place needs is more people. I got a better idea. Why don't we just leave these assholes and bug out entirely?"  
  
"I don't think so. I kinda like this job. And we may need a bolt-hole, with some sort of support and intelligence framework. You know how I feel about having our asses hanging out in the wind."  
  
Creed grunted in acknowledgement. Jubilee's insistence on backup plans had been a bone of contention between herself and her captains on more than one occasion, and a brilliantly executed raid without contingency planning was more likely to get stripes torn out of your hide than a disaster averted by a pre-planned alternative.  
  
"Lemme ask you something," he said quietly, flicking ashes onto the steps. Only someone who knew Victor Creed intimately would have caught the faint unease in his voice.  
  
"Shoot."  
  
"What would you have done if Baldie wouldn't have let me and Tweed and the others stick around here?"  
  
"I had an ace in the hole."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
She nodded energetically, the brisk breeze was turning her cheeks pink. "You remember Emma Frost?"  
  
"Blonde bitch. What about her?"  
  
"Well, my dad, he was an investment banker. Turns out he was investing for clients who weren't actually showing up on his company's files. Some of them were what you might call 'after-hours' clients."  
  
"Gotcha. What's that got to do with Frost?"  
  
"Gimme a sec. Dad lost everything in one of the stock market crashes. And he lost money that he wasn't supposed to be playing with, he was just supposed to be processing."  
  
"Laundering, ya mean."  
  
"Tomato, tomahto. So, what's the best tax dodge any accountant ever came up with?"  
  
Vic puffed on his cigar for a moment. "Puttin' it in their kids' names."  
  
"Exactly. So, my dad has all these investments, some of them in my name. And although most of them were dogs, a few of them weren't. Frostie dug them all up. Social Services and all that looked into it when my parents were killed, but they weren't as.. tenacious as she was." Jubilee made a face. "I was pretty furious at first. I figured it was none of her business, and barely spoke to her for months. But, in the end, she was right. Money is money, and it always comes in handy."  
  
"So how much we talking about, here?"  
  
"Roughly.... Three and half, maybe four mil. Maybe more, by now."  
  
"Huh. Not bad. 'Course, it's a drop in the bucket when ya compare it to Baldie. Shit, I think I've got more than that, if I could remember where the fuck it is."  
  
"It's still my ace in the hole."  
  
"Some ace."  
  
"Anyway, you never know what could happen in the next couple of years. Word is, it's getting really weird over in Europe." Jubilee chewed on her lip thoughtfully. "I could use someone to watch my back on occasion, especially if I ever do decide to bug out."  
  
He considered it. "Guess I could stay in the area."  
  
"That'd be cool."  
  
Shivering, Jubilee wrapped her arms around her legs again. "You know, there's this real estate office in downtown Salem Center. Has this totally bitchin' ramp and railing combo for skateboarders and bladers. But the dude who owns it was real anal probe material. He used to yell at me all the time for hanging around."  
  
An evil glint kindled in Jubilee's smile. "What do you say we go get him to show us some properties around here. I figure I owe him, oh, about as much sheer hell and abject terror as the two of us can give him until we find you a place to crash."  
  
Creed's canines glinted with answering malice. "Could be fun." He stuck his cigar in the corner of his mouth and gave her a hand up, nearly hauling her right off the ground.  
  
"One condition, though," she added as she regained her balance.  
  
"What?" he replied, suspicious.  
  
"You gotta save me crash space on the sofa or something. We've already got a dozen people living in this place, dude. Scott gets his way, there won't be enough room to swing a cat around here."  
  
Creed chuckled. "You ever actually tried to swing a cat?"  
  
"Um, no."  
  
He slung his arm over her shoulder, casually keeping her steady even as he knocked her off balance yet again. "Not as easy as it sounds." 


	7. Endings and Beginnings

Title - Home from the Hill – Chapter 7  
  
Author - Ramos  
  
Rating – PG  
  
Disclaimer – MOST of these characters are the Property of Marvel Comics. No profit is made from their use.  
  
Feedback: Yes, I am a shameless feedback slut. Please feed my habit.  
  
  
  
**********  
  
"Damn."  
  
Logan swore without real anger as he dropped the wrench again. The bulk of the garage shielded him from the worst of the breeze, but the metal coating over his bones caused his fingers to chill and become clumsy when exposed to the elements too long. Although winter had finally released her hold on upstate New York, she occasionally sent nippy reminders when the late April sun should have been warming up the ground.  
  
The sound of a car driving up distracted him from reaching for the tool and he glanced up. No vehicle could have gotten past the front gate without the security code, and Logan relaxed when he recognized the late model Caddy Jubilee had given Tweed for passing the GED as well as getting his driver's license. A backwards baseball cap disguised his short-cropped blue hair, but his passenger let her long cobalt locks fall loosely over her shoulders.  
  
Dee gave him a timid wave as she climbed out of the car. Tommy called out a faint greeting as he climbed out of the spacious back seat, but all three exiles entered the house rather than linger and chat. Frowning, Logan tried to remember if the school year had come to an end, but he was fairly sure it was too early for that and too late for spring break. Jubilee hadn't mentioned that the kids were coming home for the weekend. Then again, she hadn't said much of anything to him for several days.  
  
Actually, the last time he'd spoken to her, she'd been uncommonly terse and inattentive. While spending their Friday evenings together hadn't actually become a habit, he had been slightly annoyed when Jubilee had turned down his invitation without explanation. He was still doggedly working on reclaiming their old camaraderie, but it was difficult to for her to find the time as she organized her team and dealt with the other duties that went along with her expanded responsibilities.  
  
Half an hour later, Creed roared up on his antique Indian motorcycle. The huge mutant also passed him without saying a word, bypassing the house and heading out into the back gardens. Although he'd moved out of the mansion and bought a place on the other side of Salem Center months ago, he still came to the mansion on a regular basis. Several members of the team had speculated that he had a girlfriend, but no one yet had summoned the courage to ask him.  
  
With the additional people running around the mansion, Logan was strongly considering taking a leaf out of Creed's book and getting a place of his own. Although Storm and Rogue had gone to Massachusetts, the newer recruits were much louder and twice as boisterous. More than once he had found himself standing beside Bishop, Vic, and Jubilee, watching Scott and the Iceman run the newbies run through their paces with the jaundiced eyes of veteran soldiers and exchanging low comments. The three men had had little trouble, but Jubilee's youth, gender, and small size had invited challenge after challenge to her authority. Logan considered it a rare privilege to have been present the day she'd finally lost her temper and put one of the newcomers down on the deck, hard. The act had brought her a private dressing-down from Cyclops, but it had the desired effect -- the new members gave Jubilee a wide berth and their complete attention when she opened her mouth.  
  
A few minutes later, someone exited the kitchen and slammed the door emphatically. Exasperated, Logan tossed the wrench in his tool box. Tuning up his bike might not have been a Zen exercise, but he did prefer to work without a constant parade of traffic. Half expecting Creed in one of his moods, or Jubilee in one of hers, Logan's eyebrow raised when he saw Scott Summers weave between the cars and smack the garage door control with his fist.  
  
"Scott!" Jean's agitation was evident as she hurried after her husband; less obvious was the subject of their disagreement. The couple exchanged a tense, silent look as the garage door clattered open. Familiar with the couple's psychic discussions, Logan kept his smart comments to himself. After several moments, Jean heaved a patient sigh and climbed into the car. Scott followed suite and started the engine immediately. The tires didn't quite squeal as the car left the garage, but it was a near thing.  
  
Now convinced that something was up, Logan abandoned the tune up and racked his tools. The scent of wood smoke hit him as he closed the garage doors and wandered around the back of the house to see where Creed had taken himself. Although they weren't friends and never would be, the two men had made it to the point where they could at least ask the other a simple question or two.  
  
The smoke lay in ropy drifts across the formal part of the gardens before the wind caught and dissipated it. The burning smell overrode Creed's trail, and mingled with it was the combined scents of several people. Jubilee's he recognized immediately, then Bishop's and Tweed's. On the far end of the gardens, where the last patch of yard and ornamental flowering trees gave way to the wilder fields and forest, a large fire burned, obviously the source of the smoke.  
  
Even as he caught sight of the people around the fire and picked out Jubilee's dark mop, her head came up, eyes searching as she sought out Logan's position. She often did that, as though aware of his presence the instant he came within eyesight of her. She turned back and spoke briefly to the man beside her, who nodded, then clambered to her feet and made her way through the expansive garden to Logan's side. Her energetic stride covered the ground quickly; in moments she was in front of him, her hands tucked in the back pocket of her jeans.  
  
"Hey."  
  
"Hey yerself. You guys having a barbecue or something?"  
  
"Something like that," she answered. "Are you busy?"  
  
"Not especially." He held out his greasy hands. "I gotta clean up, but no, not really."  
  
"Good. Um, listen. Chibar would like you to attend his ceremony. I told him you probably wouldn't make it…"  
  
Logan caught the oddly flat tone in her voice, and for an instant wondered if Jubilee was only asking to be polite, but that didn't jibe with what he'd seen earlier. "Nah, I'll come. What, now?"  
  
She nodded. "We're just about to eat. There's some beef, a couple of rabbits, and I'm gonna scare up a loaf of bread. Vic brought some ouzo."  
  
"Ugh. No, thanks. I'll grab a couple of beers, if it's all the same."  
  
"Sure. The ceremony doesn't start for…" she held her fingers out, measuring the distance between the sun and the rolling horizon showing above the western tree line. It was a trick Logan had taught her years ago. "About another hour." She folded her arms, and he realized she was wearing the worn boots and sleeveless shirt from her days on Hearth. "Why don't you go ahead and wash. I'll wrestle Vic for the last steak for ya. And Logan?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Don't take too long."  
  
With all but the last line of grease removed from his nails, Logan made his way back to the fire, a six pack of long necks in his hand. The warm fire, dying down to a steady burn, gave off a comforting heat as the spring day waned. Chibar and the rest of Jubilee's exiles greeted him quietly as he claimed a spot on the ground. Stretching out his legs, he muttered a thank you when Jubilee handed him a piece of steak. Folded in half and impaled on a long stick, it was heavily marbled with fat, frizzled black on the outside, still bloody on the inside. It was amazingly good.  
  
"Hell, Jube. You can finally cook."  
  
She laughed, along with the rest of her pack. "Not me, Wolvie. Tweed cooked that."  
  
On the verge of making a joke, Logan glanced at Tweed and realized he, too, was wearing the tattered remainders of the uniform he'd worn when he'd first come to this planet. Bishop wore his usual trousers, but his shirt was the old uniform as well. As he looked around, Logan realized that Chibar was the only member of the gathering, save himself, whose clothing was not a relic of Jubilee's rag-tag army. Instead, the older man wore a pair of loose red trousers and a short red robe that overlapped in the front, belted by a braided red and white cord.  
  
Other incongruities nibbled at Logan's consciousness. Although Vic took healthy swigs of his bottle, and the unique licorice tang of ouzo reached Logan's nose, the big man was serious and reflective as he talked quietly with Dee. The bottle had found its way into Dee's hands when Jubilee's back was turned, and the teenage girl had surreptitiously sipped at it. It was no surprise when the harsh liquor made her cough, but Creed hadn't laughed or teased her, just patted her back gently with a hand big enough to rip her head off.  
  
On the other side of the fire, Tommy and Tweed were discussing something in low undertones, which was puzzling since Jubilee normally had to separate the two. The young men were only four years apart and had been as close as brothers, which meant any time they were together they were either cooperating in some mischief or elbowing each other in a disagreement that nearly always ended in an argument.  
  
Wolverine drew his wandering attention back as Chibar pulled a squat round bottle from a cushioning wadded blanket near the fire and held it up, sloshing it gently. The conversations around the fire died as everyone focused on the amber glass in the man's brown mottled hands. The cork had been removed earlier, and Chibar held the bottle up to the waning daylight in a salute before he turned to his companions.  
  
"You will all be in my heart, always," he said in a firm voice, and took a deep swallow. He smacked his lips appreciatively, then passed the bottle to Bishop.  
  
Bishop held the bottle loosely in his hand for a moment, then lifted it to the sky. "You were a good soldier, my friend. Safe journey." He swallowed hard, the first time Logan had ever seen Bishop drink anything vaguely alcoholic.  
  
Bishop handed the bottle to Tommy, whose green skin darkened with embarrassment as his voice cracked. "Thanks, for everything you taught me." He, too, took a swallow of the bottle, and did his best to suppress a cough as he handed it to Tweed.  
  
Logan listened vaguely to Tweed's toast as he inspected the brown man across the fire from him. Chibar alone of the exiles had lost weight, rather than recovering from months of low rations and constant fighting he'd endured on Hearth. His mottled skin, variegated between a mocha brown and deeply tanned Caucasian hues, hung in wrinkles around his neck and face like that of a fasting Ghandi. Resting on the ground beside him, a long, stout stick lay beside a small duffel bag.  
  
From the corner of his eye he caught Jubilee taking the bottle. She held it for a moment, then lifted it high. "Chibar… I've learned many things from you, on how to be a leader, and how to treat people… I don't think we would have survived for long without you. I hope you find your clan quickly, and I hope they realize how lucky they are to have you." She took a few swallows and handed the bottle to Logan.  
  
"Can I talk to you for a second?" he hissed under his breath as he took it.  
  
"NO!" Jubilee hissed back. "Just take that and say something nice," she ordered with a scowl. Logan scowled back, and her eyes flashed with an "or else" gleam.  
  
"All right," he muttered. Lifting the bottle, Logan gathered his thoughts for an instant toast. "Chibar, I wanta wish you a safe journey. And I wanted to thank you for watching Jube's back when I wasn't there to do it. That means a lot ta me." He took a slug of the bottle, startled slightly when the warm brandy and hard cider combination rolled over his tongue. It was surprisingly good.  
  
He thrust the bottle at Dee, not even considering the fact that the girl was only fifteen, and grabbed Jubilee's arm. "We gotta talk," he said, dragging her to her feet and hustling her away from the campfire. When he was confident they were out of earshot from the rest of the group, including Creed, Logan let Jubilee wrench her arm loose.  
  
"You wanna tell me what the heck is going on?"  
  
That earned him another scowl. "Chibar has asked us for a Sending ceremony. He wants to go find his clan."  
  
"Jube… they're dead."  
  
"I know that! I helped bury them! But he was their historian, the keeper of the clan's legends. It was his responsibility to keep the clan on an even path. And without him, they're lost."  
  
"What part of dead am I not clear on here? And how can you even think about lettin' someone who's obviously not a full human go walkabout?"  
  
Jubilee's jaw set stubbornly. "He's not going walkabout, Logan. He's going on. To the next plane."  
  
He stared at her in dawning disbelief. "He's gonna kill himself," Logan stated flatly, daring her to deny it.  
  
"Chibar's clan believed that they cover several planes of existence on a journey. This life is only one step on that journey. They've gone on without him, and he feels that they need him."  
  
Logan swore under his breath. "This is stupid, Jubilee. He's not going anywhere but six feet down!"  
  
The woman at his side swallowed hard. "I know that. But he believes, Logan. He dreams about them, every night, calling out because they're lost and they need him."  
  
"So you're just gonna to let him kill himself? I never would have thought you'd stand by.."  
  
Raged flared in her eyes and two small hands shoved at his chest, pushing him violently backwards. "Don't you dare come in here and get opinionated on me! I have not spent the last month arguing with Cyke and the Professor on this for you to add your two cents' worth now!" She shoved at him again, and Logan let her, realizing she needed to release some of the tension and anguish that was tearing her apart inside. "You can just keep your mouth shut!"  
  
His own arms came up and circled her shoulders as she pushed ineffectively against him, but she didn't struggle as he drew her closer. Instead, her head sagged down to his shoulder, and he put his arms around her as he had a thousand times before, when she was a thousand years younger.  
  
Jubilee inhaled shakily, and her voice was muffled against the flannel. "We've been trying to help him for months, Logan, but he's not depressed. He truly thinks his clan needs him, and he's dying inside." Her head shook hopelessly. "I've spent hours discussing this with Xavier, and Storm, and with Tweed and Chibar. We – you and I – have no more right to tell him he has to live than we do to kill him. And he's made up his mind."  
  
"So he's gonna go on to the next plane, huh?" Logan asked gently, trying not to examine why the feel of Jubilee in his arms made him feel the way it did. The skin on her arms was cold, but she didn't seem to notice the chill. "Guess that's why Cyke took off in a tizzy."  
  
"Did he?" she mumbled.  
  
"Yeah. No way he'd condone a suicide ceremony." Logan glanced at her ear, all he could see of her. "Can't say I blame him, though. I still don't think this is right, Jube."  
  
"Funny," she said dryly, pulling her face away from his shoulder. "I remember having this same conversation with you when Mariko died."  
  
The memory of the aftermath of her fiancée's loomed in Logan's mind, and he stiffened. That handful of days after Mariko's death had been some of the most painful he'd ever had to endure. His intention to commit seppuku and end his own pain had seemed a logical and correct action, until a certain thirteen-year-old firecracker had flatly refused to accept his death wish. She had yelled and screamed until she'd reached him in his spiraling descent.  
  
Unfortunately, the only people that might have given Chibar a reason to live had already died. Unable to argue any longer, Logan sighed and let his arms fall from around Jubilee's shoulders. She gave him a sad smile, comprised equally of sympathy and apology for bringing up old wounds, and turned to lead the way back to the others.  
  
When they returned to the fireside, Chibar was seated on the folded fabric that had cushioned the apple brandy earlier. Faced into the strong evening light, he was meditating while the others finished eating and cleaning up their mess. As sundown approached they gathered around, waiting. Eventually the bottom of the setting sun touched the distant horizon.  
  
The man meditating on the grass rose slowly and straightened his clothing. He went to Dee, the youngest there, and embraced her. Tommy was next, clasped firmly by the wrist, with a small joke about how large he'd grown. Tweed, Bishop, and Victor were bid goodbye. At last, Chibar stood before Jubilee and Logan. The olive-skinned man bowed to him, and Logan had to admit the peace on the man's face was a tremendous change from the usual mixture of pain and hopelessness usually seen.  
  
Chibar attempted to bow to Jubilee, only to be hugged fiercely. When she stood back, he smiled fondly at her as he gave her a formal bow, then reached towards the sheath at his side.  
  
"Clan Mother you are not, Warleader, but very close. Close enough. Midwife me, Jubilation Lee. Deliver me safely to the next world."  
  
Wordlessly Jubilee took the wickedly curved blade from Chibar's hands and bowed over it. He bowed again, then returned to his meditation mat. A shallow bowl waited at the corner of the fabric, and he saluted the setting sun with it before draining the contents. Settling back, he arranged his robes and closed his eyes.  
  
The group waited, watching, as the sun went down.  
  
"It's s'posed to work by the time the sun's set all the way," Creed volunteered.  
  
"That muck he drank?" Logan hazarded. He still had a hard time interacting with the man he'd spent so many years fighting tooth and nail. "Where'd he get it?"  
  
"He brought it with him." Jubilee said flatly.  
  
Logan watched the shadows lengthen and considered the fact that the man had been planning on killing himself for some time. At last, twilight filled the garden, and he cleared his throat. Creed glanced at him, and he knew the big man's enhanced senses could hear the same thing he could – the much slower, but still steady cadence in the older man's chest.  
  
"His heart's still beating. If those weeds were old..."  
  
"They wouldn't work as well. I know." It took everything Jubilee had not to let her feet drag as she moved to the prone man's side. Sinking to her knees, she pressed a kiss to his wrinkled forehead. "Goodbye, old friend." Only at the last moment did Logan fully grasp what she intended, when the blade Chibar had given into her keeping lined up with her fingertip over his aged chest.  
  
"Wait a minute," he interrupted, grabbing her wrist. Creed joined him, and the two of them listened as the heartbeat faltered again. Struggling gallantly, it fluttered, steadied, and then skipped again. Two of Jubilee's fingers found a pulse point on the inside of the prone man's wrist, and she, too, felt the uneven rhythm. She moved to Chibar's throat, but could not find a pulse. Her blue eyes, huge and tortured, clung to Logan's face as he listened to the last wavering contractions in the man's chest. He exchanged a glance with Creed, and after a minute the hairy head nodded.  
  
"He's gone."  
  
The others joined her as she tucked the knife reverently under the folded hands. Together, they folded the meditation fabric over the still face of their comrade and lifted and carried Chibar to the stone lined grave he'd dug days ago. More stones lay nearby in a neat pyramid.  
  
"You've done this before, haven't you?" Logan asked Jubilee. "Helped someone die."  
  
Jubilee's shoulders hunched, and she nodded. "Never again," she vowed in a vehement whisper. Logan remained at Jubilee's side as darkness stole rapidly over the garden. The only sounds were the insects and the occasional chunk of a stone as they placed a layer of rocks, then rich loamy soil, over the body of their deceased companion.  
  
When Bishop dropped the shovel and called her name, Jubilee wiped her eyes on her sleeve and joined them around the slight earthen mound. Together, they stood silently around the grave, until Jubilee spoke, repeating the poem by Robert Louis Stevenson as she had over countless graves on Hearth.  
  
"Under the wide and starry sky,  
  
Dig the grave and let me lie.  
  
Glad did I live and gladly die,  
  
And I laid me down with a will.  
  
This be the verse you grave for me:  
  
Here he lies where he longed to be:  
  
Home is the sailor, home from the sea,  
  
And the hunter home from the hill."  
  
"Amen," intoned Bishop and Logan as Tweed, Dee, and Tommy each made a gesture with their fingertips over their chest, then pressed the heel of their hand against their forehead. Creed merely grunted and walked off into the darkness. Jubilee stared at the grave for a long moment, then made a parade ground about-face and headed for the house.  
  
Logan watched her walk away, then realized Bishop was watching him just as closely. The challenge in the taller man's eyes was older than recorded history. 'If you don't I will,' it said, plainly, hotly. The inner beast in Logan answered before he could think, growling with clear warning in the soft night. Without conscious intent Logan followed Jubilee into the house. Her scent paused briefly in front of the refrigerator before heading straight up the stairs, went past the floor where the team's bedrooms were, and up to the top story of the house.  
  
Other architecture styles would have decreed a widow's walk on the roof, but Xavier's mansion had only an access hatch and a flattened peak. Like a narrow sidewalk it led to various nooks, great for people who wanted to be alone as long as they had a head for heights.  
  
Refusing to consider whether or not this was a good idea, Logan followed Jubilee's scent. It led to a small space at the far end of the house which overlooked the lake and the trees but not the narrow grave they'd just left. Breakstone Lake was choppy in the light of the newly risen moon; the nippy breeze from earlier in the day had turned bitter and gusty.  
  
Dry-eyed, but looking easily twice her age, Jubilee glanced up as Logan slid down the slope of the roof. "I wasn't expecting you," she said quietly, then settled back down on her hip, her knees bent, one elbow propping her up.  
  
"Were you expecting Bishop?" The words were out of his mouth before Logan could stop them.  
  
"I wasn't expecting anyone," she replied. A bottle gurgled as she drank deeply; Logan frowned as the scent of clear water reached him. She noticed his expression and held the water bottle out to him.  
  
"My version of comfort food. Weird, but if you've ever gone a couple of weeks drinking out of a dirty river, you start fantasizing about fresh, cold water." Jubilee tilted her head to one side, and the weight of her depression and pain drew around her like a dark cloak. "'Course, you're a beer an' whiskey man, so maybe that's what your comfort is."  
  
Settling on the shingles beside her, Logan considered the question while he watched her. "It all depends, darlin'."  
  
"I wonder what Scott drinks," she mused. "Do you know what he drinks when someone on the team dies?"  
  
"Scotch, I think," he answered, after a moment's reflection.  
  
"Well, maybe I should give it a try," Jubilee said. She popped the spout down with a blunt blow of her palm and then tossed the bottle out into the night. Pulling her knees up within the circle of her arms, she rested her forehead against her wrists.  
  
"I thought I was done with this," she said in a bleak voice. "I really did. All those graves I left behind on Hearth, all those people who died following me… I thought, Okay, I'll get back home, and this nightmare will all be over. But this is just a different nightmare, isn't it?"  
  
Logan slid closer to her and laid a light, tentative hand on the back of her neck.  
  
"Ya can't blame yourself, Jube."  
  
A dry, mirthless laugh greeted his words. "Blame? Ya gotta be kidding me, Logan. We're way past little words like blame. If one person dies because of something I did, that's when you'd say, well, this is to blame. A serial rapist attacks a fifteen-year-old girl when you told her she'd be safe, and that's your fault.  
  
"I'm talking about over two thousand people, Logan," she continued, her voice flat. "Five hundred rifle troops. Seven pulse cannons crews. Hell, eight hundred troops with nothing but swords or longbows, and every single one of them calling me Warleader, trusting me not to get them killed."  
  
"That's all behind you now, Jube," he reminded her.  
  
"Is it?" She turned her head enough to meet his eye. "What happens next time, Logan? You've read the papers, you've seen the projections. If the unthinkable happens, worse case scenario and we end up in a human-mutant war, it's all going to happen again. And the really horrible thing is I think I can win this time. I'm just not sure I can pay the price.  
  
Her midnight black hair scrunched up in various directions as she scruffed her fingers through it. "As much as I hate to say it, it was actually easier when there were so many people dying. That part of you just gets numb, ya know? It's not numb any more. It hurts. It hurts so much, and I don't think I can do it, Logan. I just don't think I can do it."  
  
Logan looked at the tense shoulders, the rigid back, and hated the hysteria in her tone. He'd known Jubilee for more than ten years, and in all that time, he'd never heard so much pain and despair in her voice. It made his chest ache, and more than anything, it made him angry. So angry, in fact, that the words flew out of his mouth before he could stop them.  
  
"Jubilation Lee, you are so full of crap!"  
  
Shocked, her head came up, blue eyes locked on his with disbelief.  
  
"You've never backed away from a fight in your life, Jubilee. I've never known you to back down from anything. Stop second-guessing yourself and go with what you know."  
  
Jubilee stared at him, appalled. And abruptly burst out laughing.  
  
Biting on the heel of her hand couldn't stop the chuckles, mixed equally with sobs, and her breath came in jerky heaves. Logan knelt beside her, and her hands were suddenly clutched in his shirt as she buried tear- streaked face in his chest.  
  
Easing them both backwards, Logan leaned against the sloped roof and folded Jubilee into his embrace. Silent sobs shook her, occasionally mixed with damp snickers. Logan rubbed her back and held her, and when she shivered and seemed to notice the cold at last, Logan tucked the loose end of his flannel shirt around her and let her curl up in the shelter of his arm.  
  
Eventually she stilled and lay with her head on his shoulder and looked up at the stars with him. They never had found the system for Hearth's primary star, but he knew she found the familiar patterns comforting. In quiet voices they made small comments about inconsequential things until Jubilee was ready to talk.  
  
"I made a choice, Logan. I let all those people think I abandoned them, and I did. And some of them most surely have died because I left them. But if I had stayed on Hearth I would have been deliberately setting myself and my people against the Shi'ar Empire, and there's no way I could have won that fight."  
  
Logan had to agree with her. "No darlin', I don't think you could've. You weren't in the right place at the right time. But now, you are."  
  
"Am I?" she asked in a small voice.  
  
"Well, you seem to fit right here pretty good," he said, giving her a squeeze, gratified when she snuggled in even closer. "Right place, right time, Jube. Ain't that what you said 'bout Vic?"  
  
"I suppose."  
  
"And here you are again. No way you're gonna walk away from it." She heaved a deep sigh, and Logan knew she had accepted it, whatever the future held.  
  
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Ya know, that's one thing I wanna learn from you. Takin' off has always been my way. Bar fights, tanglin' with Creed, that's no big deal. If I die, then I die. But havin' to live with something... That's always been hard for me."  
  
"Ummm," she returned politely, tired, and he felt, finally, his own acceptance of what he'd known for fact for far too long. He inhaled the cool night air, and decided it was time to finally say it.  
  
"Jube?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Ya know, you were gone the last time springtime rolled around. I was still worried 'bout ya, but I went up ta Canada to visit Silver Fox's grave like I usually do. And then I hopped a flight to Japan an' said some prayers for Mariko." He paused, and she 'umm'ed again to let him know she was listening. "While I was waitin' to get on a flight home, I kept looking at the flights to Australia. Next thing I know, I'm on a flight Down Under. Took a week or so to walk out to our old digs in the Outback.  
  
"And that's when I knew," he finished roughly.  
  
"Knew what?" she asked quietly.  
  
"Knew, that if you didn't come back, I was addin' another stop to my annual trip. That's where we started - you and me. An' it killed me to think I'd never see you again."  
  
The body next to his went utterly still. Jubilee carefully raised herself up on one elbow and looked at him. "What are you saying?"  
  
He raised up on his elbow as well, only inches away from her. "I'm sayin' I gotta face up to facts – that the only choice we've ever got is to go forward. If you can do it, maybe I can, too." He reached out one tentative hand and pushed back some of the wild black mop, noting again the minute sprinkling of white, every one of them earned.  
  
"I ain't walking away from it, Jube. You're my lifeline. I can't go on without you. I don't know how exactly we're gonna do it, but maybe we can work on it, you and me."  
  
By hesitant increments, he drew closer to her. True to form she held her ground, until the slightest tilt of her head brought her mouth to his.  
  
Like most first kisses, it was short, slightly awkward. The second try was better, and a faint smile flitted across her mouth. "That was nice."  
  
"Yeah?" Logan could feel a grin trying to surface.  
  
"Yeah. If you ever want to do it again, I won't say no."  
  
"Really," he rumbled, deep in his chest, and leaned in to kiss her again. This time it was longer, slower, and gradually deepened until Jubilee pulled her mouth away from his suddenly.  
  
"Poor Vic. He's going to be so disappointed."  
  
"Huh?" Logan asked, confused.  
  
"Never mind," she said, and kissed him again.  
  
  
  
~fin~ 


End file.
